Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own a black cat and a dirty Toyota. That's all. The
lyrics are courtesy of Dada
Summary: Michael finds himself drawn yet again to Maria in spite
of how he thinks he should, or should not, feel.
I could fall in love
I could pick a flower
I'd give it a face
But it would never replace
Who you are
Responding to an insistent knock, Maria opened
the kitchen door to the last person she ever would have expected to see at her
house, let alone using the door like a...well, like a human! Which he isn't,
she reminded herself firmly, determined to ignore the way he made her breathe
all funny just by looking at her.
"Well?" she demanded, and he quirked a
brow at her in that infuriating way he had, surveying her from her tousled hair
to her small bare feet with colorfully painted toenails.
"Well what?" he tossed back at her,
smirking at her discomfort, although he was squelching plenty of his own.
Neither was exactly meeting the other's eyes.
"Well,
what are you doing here, Michael?" her voice made his name sound heavenly.
She'd meant to sound as snippity as possible but he'd caught her off guard
showing up like this, and she wasn't really prepared. He looked...well, he
looked like a hot fudge sundae would to a dieter...sinfully delicious. Teflon,
she reminded herself. I am Teflon.
"I...well..." Their eyes finally met,
hers the tawny golden-green of a cat's and his the smooth honey-brown of a
southern bayou, and his carefully prepared noncommittal excuses melted away.
"I wanted to see you." His fumbling brain finally came up with
something to cover his ass and he hastily added, "I mean, I saw you in the
kitchen and wanted to make sure you didn't blow yourself up or something,"
he averted his gaze slightly to avoid hers. He fixated on the breakfast table
beyond her, repeating to himself mentally, "mud...mud..." and caught
site of the napkin holder he'd made for her on the table next to a centerpiece
of flowers. Where Maria's mom had found napkins printed with little green
aliens, he was not even going to ask. The corner of his mouth turned up in a
small smile that made her want to kiss him right there.
"Well, here I am, you've seen me, I'm in one
piece, now you can go," she returned, trying to muster her best Michael
glare to dismiss him. "What are you smiling at?"
"That's a hell of a napkin holder you've
got there, must have been pricey," he teased her, and she couldn't help
giggling.
"You don't know the half of it," she
bantered, and then both sobered as their eyes met again.
"Can I come in?" he asked, and she
shrugged.
"Sure, c'mon, ruin my day, why don't
you," she muttered under her breath as she moved away from the door. He
heard her, even though she only half-hoped he would, and he eyed the smooth
ivory column of her neck as she turned back into the kitchen.
He said "That's what I live for," and
stopped short as she whirled to face him.
"YOU," she said, poking a finger none
too gently into his chest, "will NOT screw with my head today.
Understood?"
"Yes ma'am," he returned, trying not
to burst into laughter at the expression on her face. Apparently she had been
housecleaning to a small degree--the dishwasher was half unloaded and there was
a kitchen towel lying on the edge of the sink. She made a beeline back to that
side of the kitchen.
I could sing forever
Get drunk on guitar
Feel the drum and bass
But it would never replace
Who you are
"Is told me about the show, I never knew
you could sing," he said suddenly, and she tossed a glance back at him.
"You were not there, you still don't
know," she said pointedly.
"Word gets around in...in our group,"
he hesitated, unfamiliar with inclusive terms that included him, but pleased
with the rightness he felt in saying "our." "I'd like to hear
you sometime," he offered, and she chuckled.
"No smart-alecky remarks? No 'I'd like to
hear you so mating cats and howling dogs sound good in comparison?' No 'I'd
like to hear you so I can peel the paint off this canvas I messed up on?' Just
'I'd like to hear you'?"
"Just that," he answered, "but
don't get used to it." She chuckled again and a smile touched his mouth at
the sound. He loved to aggravate her but also found pleasing her rather
intriguing. She continued to dry and put away dishes and a surprisingly
comfortable silence descended between them. In spite of the way they bickered
like preschoolers, they understood each other too well after their road trip to
really be strangers to each other.
Michael hung back by the breakfast area and
appeared to study the flowers while he covertly admired the way she looked in
cotton shorts and tank...her small waist and the gentle swell of her hips
called to him because he remembered all too well how perfectly she fit into his
arms. "Michael's got feelings after all!" Isabel would have crowed
victoriously if she knew what he was thinking. Maria would have broken a plate
over his head, he was sure. Maybe some Corningware, since it was heavier and
much more suited to his hard head, he could almost hear her correcting him
mentally.
"Why are you drying dishes by hand if
you're gonna use the washer to wash 'em?" his tone of voice indicated that
this was more of Maria being silly.
"Because the washer is a piece of
crap?" she returned haughtily, not looking at him. She reached in for a
bowl and as she brought it out a warm hand covered hers briefly as he lifted it
out of her grasp. "You startled me," she said, proud of herself for
not jumping. She had not even heard him move, damn his cat-like grace anyway,
and now he was standing close enough to her that she could feel the heat of his
skin...his silky, golden skin...stop it, she told herself, stop it RIGHT NOW
Maria!
I could set this cold blue world ablaze
But the sun would still rise
And I would never replace
Who you are
"Sorry," he offered, trying to
concentrate on drying the bowl instead of on the blond pixie so close beside
him, and he was rewarded by a peal of bell-like laughter.
"YOU, wait, I need a tape recorder...say
that word again!" Maria could not stop laughing.
"Shut up," he rolled the dish towel
and snapped at her with it.
"You missed, space-brain!" she
shouted, and squealed as he rolled it again and advanced on her with a
determined look on his face.
"Take that!" he teased, popping her a
few times in succession.
"Michael, quit it! OW!!" He scored a
couple of hits on her but stopped when one raised a red mark on her forearm.
"Alien creep," she glared at him.
Glaring right back at her, he muttered,
"Bubble head," as he laced his fingers through hers and lifted her
arm.
"Michael, what are you--ohh..." she
trailed off as he softly touched his mouth to her arm. She felt the warmth of
his breath as he hovered briefly over the spot he'd made, and then brushed a
delicate butterfly kiss onto her skin. Her eyes were wide as she watched him
and saw the flicker of his tongue as he tasted her. He released her hand and
closed his arms around her shoulders, drawing her to him and holding her
tightly. She circled his waist with her arms and felt his ragged breathing
stirring the hair on top of her head as he tried to get himself under control.
"I should go," he spoke softly after a
moment, and for once she didn't yell at him or argue with him.
"If you need to," she responded, her
fingers tracing the shape of his spine through his thin cotton shirt.
"In a minute," he decided, dropping a
kiss on the blond crown of her head, which he found did not help his
equilibrium any, for she smelled deliciously of raspberries. "Where's your
mom?" he asked, trying to recover some semblance of normality.
"She'll be home late Sunday night, she's at
one of her weird convention things again," Maria replied.
"Oh." Brilliant, Guerin, he thought to
himself, you're alone with her and you know you can't keep away from her. Run,
you moron, before you do something stupid. Or don't do it...
I'd take a train to nowhere
A rocket to mars
Get lost in space
But I could never replace
Who you are
"OK, I'm going," he said, not relaxing
his embrace even a fraction of an inch. He felt the vibrations of her giggle
muffled in his chest and he couldn't mask an answering smile. "C'mon, get
off of me, you weigh a ton," he teased her, and she snatched her arms from
around his waist and tickled him mercilessly, a stern look on her face barely
staying there as she fought not to laugh.
"Pig. Male pig," she said, struggling
to escape his grasp as he caught her wrists and held them loosely in between
their bodies.
"Oink," he replied with a wicked
sparkle in his eyes, and she had to laugh. "I really am going this
time," he said, and he slipped his hands into her smaller ones and held
them for a moment. Crossing his fingers, he said, "This doesn't change
anything I said," and at her puzzled look he leaned forward and brushed
her lips delicately with his. "I still don't like you," he murmured
softly against her mouth, and he felt her fingers cross as she joined his childhood
game.
"I don't like you either.." she fibbed
right along with him, and kept her eyes closed for a moment after she felt him
withdraw. When she opened them he was in the doorway looking back at her, and
then he was gone. Feeling strangely contented, she returned to her dishes with
a dreamy smile that didn't leave her face for quite a while.
I could set this cold blue world ablaze
But the sun would still rise
And I would never replace
Who you are