DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do admit that I got inspired (rather than ripped off the idea) for this by the “Drinks” series in the SVU fandom, because it’s just a lovely concept. My props to the author of the series for writing such wonderful little pieces of fanfiction delight.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
The Guilty Pleasure Drabbles
By Kristina K
You almost spill coffee from the cup you already had an awkward grip on, because you're always clumsy with dishware and just last week you managed to drop this cup and break off the handle from it.
"Oops, sorry," she chuckles when she sees how you maneuver away to avoid spilling coffee on your clothes after her voice startles you.
"It's okay," you wave it off with your other hand, trying not to act like an embarrassed teenager. Well, not more than you usually do around her, anyway.
"Does Greg know you keep stealing from him?" She smiles as she walks over, "Because, he did complain to some of us about his stash of coffee disappearing and I think he's this close to filing an official complaint. There might even be an investigation."
"In that case, yes he does know."
"What's so special about it, anyway," she steps closer and peers into your cup, "It's coffee."
"Have you tried it?"
She mocks, "I had coffee before, yes."
You nod, "Have you tried this coffee?" When she just gives you that 'coffee is coffee is coffee' look, you fake outrage, "Sofia!"
She shrugs, "Then pour me a cup. I want to see what's so special about it."
"This is the last of the loot," you lift up your cup, "I couldn't find his new hiding place. And besides," you narrow your eyes at her with a wicked smile, "what if that investigation ensues? You'll be a detective involved in a coffee-stealing scandal."
"I'll turn myself in at the end of my shift," she answers, "If it's worth it."
"It's worth it," you say and offer her the cup in your hand.
You're hyper aware of how close she's standing next to you. Every nerve ending seems to extend itself through your skin over the gap between you, and then it brushes her skin making goose bumps spread out all over your body when she moves and disturbs the air around you.
Her hand reaches out for the cup and then her fingers touch yours for the duration of the exchange.
"It's hot," she complains with a smile when she feels the heat radiate through the ceramic of your broken cup.
"It's coffee, it's supposed to be that way."
"Cream, sugar?" She examines the dark liquid and then lifts her eyes up to examine your face.
"Nope. Just coffee. Straight up."
"Gah," she makes a face, but takes a sip of it anyway.
"And?" You raise your eyebrows at her.
"It's awful," she states gruffly and your jaw drops in mock offense. "I guess you'll be spending time at the central lock up all by yourself." Offering you the cup back, she winks, "Don't worry, I'll come and visit."
"I'll still tell Greg you were aiding and abetting," you threaten her as she slowly slips away from you, walking backwards towards the break room exit. Her eyes sparkle with mischief at your words while a smug smile tugs on the corners of her lips. She winks at you again just before she's out in the hallway and then she quickly disappears from your sight.
When you return your focus onto the cup of coffee that is back in your hands, warming up the palms that cradle it and then tickles your nose with the distinct aroma of that special blend, you become aware of the faint print against the rim of the cup where her moist lips touched it. When you take another sip from it, you notice how the coffee now seems to taste even better.
It's been twenty minutes since you lost her from the view. One minute she was by the bar and then poof! and she was gone. Nick could be pretty indefatigably annoying when he gets a few drinks in him because he doesn't seem to understand the word 'no' even though you already said it to him half a dozen times when he asked you to dance.
"Aw come on, lady," the alcohol thickened his southern accent, making his words lean on each other more than they usually do. If he weren't pestering you, you'd find it endearing.
"I don't dance," you give him a stern look that doesn't last long because you just have to smile at the way he pouts at you when you decline. "Go find yourself a new victim."
He sighs sadly enough to make you feel guilty, and then saunters off to where he notices Mandy swaying her hips.
It's Doc Robbins' turn to choose from the jukebox and you recognize a Led Zeppelin song as soon as it starts to play. D-7, if you remember it correctly. You know because it's Gil's favorite and once upon a time you'd do almost anything to please him. Yes, that story did not have a happy ending.
Thirty minutes. Could it be that she went home? Surely, she'd at least say goodbye. Waving the bartender over, you order another beer and then walk over to the table where Warrick and Catherine sit.
"Keep your eye on my beer," you place it in front of Warrick. "I need to go pee."
As you walk to the back of the bar where the restrooms are, you pass next to Nick and his new dancing partner who seems all too happy to be captured in a bear hugging slow dance with a southern gentleman. When he notices you watching, Nick hugs Mandy even closer while smiling in that see-what-you-were-missing manner.
The music dies down as soon as you're on the other side of the door and you feel a slight relief that you managed to get away from all that noise. But then you turn and a lump forms in your throat and you struggle for a moment or two to swallow it.
"Hey," she says casually and you flush crimson, trying not to stare as hungrily as you most probably would if you weren't so taken aback by her nonchalant posture and the lack of shirt she wore when you last saw her. It was now draped over the side of the sink, the lily white of it terribly stained by something pink, leaving her upper body clad only in sheer white lace of her bra.
"What happened," you ask when you manage to regain control of your voice again. However, your feet are still firmly planted in the same place, where it is safe, on the other end of the room.
"I was waiting for my drink by the bar and someone bumped into me," she shrugs, "They spilled their fruffy cocktail all over me."
You cringe, and then smile, "Sorry."
"It happens." She shrugs once more and you can't help but notice how her stomach muscles slightly flex at the motion. And then you swallow again.
"So what are you gonna do now?"
She throws her arms in the air, "Wait till it dries out a bit, I guess. I'm not drunk enough to flash half of the police department and the entire CSI night shift on my way out like this." She motions with her hands at her state of undress.
"Here," you shrug off your jacket and, managing to detach yourself from your safe haven position, you walk over to her and drape it around her shoulders. "Problem solved."
She smiles widely at you, "Indeed it is."
"Is there anything else I can do for you," you offer, finding courage in the appreciative look she gives you.
"You could give me a lift home to change and then keep me company as I search for the place with the music that is a little bit more my taste?"
"Sure," you say and then narrow your eyes in question.
"Salsa," she reads from your face and then straightens on her feet and buttons up the jacket you gave her. "Do you dance?"
"No," you confess shyly, but don't miss a beat on a chance that presented itself suddenly, "but I wouldn't object if you'd offer to teach me."
Guiltiest Of Pleasures
Her lips taste like chocolate when you kiss her. Warm and sweet and rich taste of cocoa on her tongue when she presses forward and pulls you in. It smells soothing, almost lulling you into sleep. You inhale deeply, allowing yourself to be hypnotized by it.
"Wow," you breathe out when she breaks the kiss and then licks her lips to savor the taste you brought with you.
"Pretty neat, isn't it?"
"Mmmm," you agree.
"There's a trick to it," she explains, "Avoid the low fat milk and be persistent with stirring. The longer it boils, the thicker it gets when it starts cooling off. Not to mention how much better it tastes."
"Since when are you such an expert on hot chocolate," you tease.
"Since I've noticed what kind of an effect it has on this cute CSI I've been seeing."
"Oh?" You lift your eyebrows at her in surprise, "Are you guys dating?"
She dips her finger into the freshly made chocolate drink and then sucks it into her mouth. Her lips stretch into a mischievous smile around the finger and you're sure she noticed how your eyes glazed over at the sight.
"Yep," she says. "It's pretty serious, too."
"Hmmm." You mirror her motion and soon enough, your finger is covered with chocolate and you can't wait to taste it. "What's he like?"
"She." She corrects you with a smile.
"She. What's she like?"
"She's tall. Dark. A bit geeky, but I like it." You hum your understanding and motion her to carry on. "She has this little gap between her teeth-"
"Yeah?" You cut in curiously.
"Yeah. Uh, totally sexy."
"And she's completely and utterly in love with me."
"Is she, now?"
"Oh yeah." Her finger gets dipped into chocolate one more time. "She can't get enough of me."
Just before she lifts her hand up far enough to reach her mouth, your hand stops it and tugs it in your direction. She gasps when your tongue slowly licks the dripping chocolate off the tip of her finger.
"Don't stop," you urge her on to continue talking but you can't suppress the evil grin that tugs on your lips. "Tell me more. She sounds fascinating."
"She, um," her eyes take careful notice of the attention you're giving to the once chocolate covered digit that is still being attended to even though it has been licked clean. "She's thorough. Meticulous. Relentless."
You let go of her hand and then set your attention to the shirt she's wearing and the three buttons that are standing undone, giving you just a peek of what's hiding underneath.
She follows you with her eyes as you pick up the cup of melted chocolate and bring it closer to both of your faces. She waits expectantly at what you're going to do next and then inhales deeply when you dip your finger in the chocolate and move it over so it trickles from the tip onto the delicate skin where her neck and shoulder meet.
You're quick to dip your head down and scoop the chocolate with your lips as it drips down to her collarbone. "Would you say she has you wrapped around her finger," you ask against her skin.
She nods and then exhales loudly, "Most definitely."
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