Author's Note: Some more friendship fluff with a side of UST…

Six Geese-a-laying

What the hell had she been thinking? She'd let something loose she probably shouldn't have. Chris LaSalle was trying to be a good friend to her, and here she had begun to flirt with him in ways that were more than just friendly. God, she'd been coming on sort of strong, hadn't she? And she really had no idea why. She didn't want anything from him.

Okay. She did rather enjoy his friendship. Spending time with him, joking, laughing, discussing their families, the regions where they'd grown up, their favorite places in the world, books and movies, music... Their coworkers... Their past relationships, including her ex-fiancé and his murdered girlfriend. Serious or light-hearted, she loved being around the man. She couldn't deny that.

So why had she jeopardized it by letting some lewd innuendo and a little bit of sexual tension into it? She should've noticed she was attracted to his lean, lightly muscled body that smelled like ginger and sweat with just a hint of gunpowder. She should've just accepted that and locked it up tight. Instead the attraction had crept up on her and made her behave... well, like a naughty girl.

She briefly wondered how Chris LaSalle felt about naughty girls. And whether he thought they needed to be punished and how-holy shit, stop!

He was a sweet, sweet guy. And a good friend. And she was absolutely not going to fantasize about him. Especially not when he was standing right there, busy in her kitchen, cooking her dinner for the second time that week. She was a downright spoiled brat, she was.

Dinner and a show, tonight. Watching him chop up the vegetables, crack and whisk up the eggs with the ease born of skilled hands that she'd never really noticed before. He certainly wasn't clumsy. She couldn't recall a time that he'd spilled anything from their forensics kits, something she'd admittedly done on several occasions. He seemed pretty adept at handling their firearms, breaking them down, cleaning them, loading magazines. And manipulating an opponent in some close-quarters combat. She wondered what else his hands were good at...

Merri pushed the glass of wine away from herself. No more of that. It was making her a little too loose with her thoughts. She was liable to do or say something regrettable. Well, more regrettable than the shameless flirting she'd initiated and perpetuated during their stakeout the previous day.

"So... what do they taste like?" she asked, trying to keep her eyes from straying, from studying the really rather attractively lean body of her friend, the way the soft fabric of his t-shirt clung to his shoulders and his smoothly muscled back, ending just below the waistband of his jeans above the swell of his yummy firm buttocks, which tensed and shifted as he opened a cupboard and reached up on his tiptoes to retrieve a couple of plates. Merri wasn't an extremely picky woman when it came to men's physical attributes. She liked them good-looking, of course (who didn't?), and she sometimes preferred tall guys, like James. But she had never been more thankful that Chris was just of an average height as she watched him stretch his just-right body (not too thick with muscle, not too thin or soft) to reach the upper shelves in her kitchen (being a couple inches shorter than him in her bare feet, she generally needed a footstool).

"I don't really know," he said, making her blink as she had to recall the question she'd asked him before she'd been horribly distracted. "I ain't never had goose eggs before."

"Guess we're about to find out," she said, as he placed a plate with an impressively neat omelet in the French style before her. He watched her expectantly but she just stared back at him. God, he was an unassumingly attractive man. More than just his pretty eyes and mouth. Someone as sweet as Chris LaSalle just couldn't hide it. Whether they meant to or not, they wore their genuinely loving nature like a weightless cloak, a warming aura that wrapped about them.

"Where's yours?" she asked, feeling like she'd been put in the spotlight as he eagerly watched her.

"It'll only take a minute," he said. "Yours is gonna get cold."

He had gone through all of the trouble of locating an individual with a backyard flock of geese who sold the eggs at a neighborhood farmer's market. And it wasn't as if he just handed half a dozen goose eggs off to her, but he'd gone through the trouble of whipping them up into an omelet. The least she could do was get over the awkwardness of his watching her eat, and try it. Besides, she liked trying new foods, right?

Cutting off a bite with the side of her fork, she scooped it up and deposited on her tongue before chewing slowly in order to fully experience the flavor of it. He'd done a good job, cooking it until it was just the right texture, and the sweet peppers and curry spice were the perfect compliment of flavors to the richer egg taste. The appreciative hum that emerged from the back of her throat wasn't contrived in the least.

"Delicious," she said after she swallowed her bite, his face already lighting up because of what was doubtless an expression of gastronomical ecstasy on her own face. "Go. Make yourself one."

He flashed her his happy boyish grin before he vacated the chair he'd taken up for treating her like that evening's feature entertainment to return to the stove top.

"Does it taste dif'rent?" he asked as he poured more of the egg mixture into the hot frying pan with a sizzle that had him hastily turning the heat down. She took her fourth bite, slowing down a little more again to contemplate it before swallowing.

"Not a whole different from chicken eggs," she said as he made his own omelet. Merri thought that at this point, he knew his way around her kitchen better than she did. "But you know. It's more the difference between free-range small farm chicken eggs and store-bought eggs."

"Yeah, them birds what laid these eggs had the run of their owners backyard," he said, bringing his plate along as he resumed his seat at the small table across from her. He shoveled a large bite into his mouth, making a pleased sound before looking at her, genuine surprise lingering there, as if he hadn't really believed her when she said it was good.

"That ain't half bad, if I do say so m'self," he said, tucking into the omelet on his plate that she noticed he hadn't been as neat about folding and arranging as the one he'd presented to her.

"Thought I was lying to you?" she asked, taking another bite, which already put her halfway through consuming the large portion.

He shrugged while he chewed. It was obvious he thought she wouldn't have said if it had been unpalatable, just to spare his feelings. Whether it was because of his mama, his older brother and sister, or Dwayne Pride, somebody had raised the boy right. He was a goddamn sweetie. Not to mention adorable, loyal, sometimes fierce and badass when he needed to be.

"Feel free to tell me I've overstepped the bounds of our friendship," she said, daring to go to a place maybe she shouldn't, but one they'd been toeing the line of for nearly a week now. He looked up, the easy-going manner sobering a little as her words sunk in. Maybe she shouldn't, but it was too late now. Just do it. Just say it. "Did Savannah know how lucky a woman she was?"

They'd sort of talked about her before. But Merri had always let him bring the subject up. So it was new for her to initiate such a conversation. And to talk about her in a more commonplace, less sad way. She knew it was what he needed, to progress through thinking only of the pain and guilt of her loss to incorporating her into his past, accepting that he would still think of her sometimes, and that they could be happy thoughts, that they didn't always have to be sad memories.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't react adversely to what was almost a teasing joke involving the dead woman. Rather his ears seemed to turn pink and when he did look at her, it was in a coy little boy way.

"More like cursed wi' me," he said after minute, when the blush waned and was replaced by the sadness.

"Why? Your cooking isn't that bad." Merri was determined to keep it light. He had to be able to remember the woman he'd been falling for with happiness, too. It wasn't fair to Savannah's memories to only be saddened by the thought of her. "Or did she refuse to even try it? I mean one wouldn't think to look at you that you'd be useful in the kitchen."

He chuckled a little bit. "She did like my Chicken-Fried Steak quite a bit."

"You sure she wasn't just buttering you up..." Merri cut herself off before she finished the train of that thought. But she knew a number of women that would probably say whatever it took to get his charming ass into bed.

"Yup," he said, smiling for the first time she'd seen without that bittersweet edge he always had when talking about Savannah. "She even said it was better than her mama's."

"Oh, well that settles it," Merri said. "She was lying just to get into your pants."

Whoops. Had she gone too far?

She nearly sighed in relief when after a beat, he laughed, shaking his head. Good. He should be happy when he thought of his girlfriend. It was healthy. It would help him move on. And maybe not feel like he was betraying her when he did. The survivor's guilt he suffered was terrible enough a burden. And maybe Merri had only met the woman once briefly, but she believed that Savannah would not have wanted Chris to stop living, or even just continue on half-living his life.

Because she must have known. No one who spent any amount of time with him could deny it.

Chris LaSalle was an amazing man. And a wonderful human being.

A/N: I think someone's a bit smitten with someone else…