Flavor - Forgiven (5/7) - Mac Taylor/Michelle Dessler (CSI:NY/24)
Michelle shrugged. "I figured the last thing either of us wanted to do right now was go to some fancy place. I'd rather be comfortable."
He gave her a small smile. "Me too."
The place wasn't too crowded, and they found a seat easily. Sliding into the booth, Michelle watched her friend closely, noting that the shaking in his hands had finally stopped. There was still worry in his eyes, however, and she found herself amazed at how protective he had become.
When the waitress had taken their order and gone away again, Michelle reached out and rested her hand on top of his.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Mac," she said softly. "Talk to me."
He looked down at their hands for a long time. Michelle kept her gaze on his face, watching the way he worked through what he wanted to say. She wished he would just open up to her, be completely honest with her. But she knew that she couldn't do that yet, either, so she couldn't really expect it of him.
"Mac…"
"I was afraid."
Her mouth fell open at his words. She hadn't been entirely sure that the word "afraid" was in Mac Taylor's vocabulary. But there he was, sitting across from her, admitting that he had been scared.
"When I saw that knife," he continued quietly, "I thought I was going to lose you. You've…you're a friend, Michelle. A good friend. And I don't think I could stand to lose you."
Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she opened her mouth to say something in response, although nothing came to mind. Instead, she just squeezed his hand, silently letting him know that she was there, that he meant a lot to her as well.
The moment was broken when the waitress returned, bringing them their food. They finally let go of each other, their hands retreating back to their side of the table. Giving her a small smile, Mac picked up his fork and began to eat.
They ate in companionable silence for awhile, just enjoying the other's company. The hustle and bustle of the diner filled the space between them, the world around them continuing to move while they enjoyed one of the few breaks that they were afforded.
Glancing over at Mac's plate, Michelle noticed that he still had a mound of golden French fries that he hadn't touched yet. Allowing herself a smirk, she reached over and snagged one, promptly stuffing it into her mouth. Mac's jaw fell open, as he stared at her disbelief.
"You just stole my fry," he protested.
She nodded, her smile broadening at the look on his face. Seeing that she wasn't even a little ashamed of what she had done, Mac decided to retaliate, stealing one of her pickles and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.
Michelle laughed, shaking her head. "Very mature, Detective Taylor."
He joined in her laughter, pushing the pickle to the side of his mouth as he tried to talk. "Payback's a bitch." Chewing for another moment, he finally swallowed the stolen food. Then he stopped, suddenly looking abashed. "I'm sorry - I hope you don't mind other people touching your food."
She shook her head, still laughing. "If I did, I certainly wouldn't have stolen your French fry first, Mac."
He shrugged. "I had a girlfriend who used to get mad at me if I took food off of her plate - especially if I didn't ask first."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It was just one of her quirks."
Michelle looked down at her food. "Tell me about her."
Mac's eyes widened a little. "Peyton? She was the first serious relationship I had after Claire died."
"But you're not together anymore?"
"No. She decided to stay in London - that's where she's from."
"I'm sorry."
He shrugged, giving her a small smile. "It was awhile ago."
They fell silent again, and Michelle struggled with her next question. Finally, she decided to just go for it. "Was it hard?"
"Letting her go, you mean?"
She shook her head. "Seeing someone after your wife?"
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, but he found that she was staring down at her plate. Sympathy welled up inside him, and he reached out to take her hand again.
"Yes."
His honest answer caught her off-guard, and she slowly raised her gaze until their eyes were locked.
"I didn't want to let her in," he continued. "I thought my life would be easier if I didn't get attached again."
"Was it?"
Mac frowned. "Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it's the right thing to do. People have a way of getting underneath your skin, Michelle. It gets to the point where you can't ignore it. And you shouldn't. You can't live your life completely closed off from other people. You might get hurt again, but at least you're living."
He held her gaze, and Michelle found that she couldn't look away, even if she had wanted to. She felt her pulse quicken, and she was suddenly very aware of his skin against hers as they continued to hold hands. As she quickly lost herself in his eyes, she opened her mouth, willing herself to take that next step…
"Would you two like any dessert?"
And just like that, the spell was broken. Once again, they broke contact, both staring up at the waitress sheepishly. Michelle was the first to recover, wanting nothing more than for this woman to leave them alone.
"Actually, yes," she said, forcing a smile onto her face. "Can I have a piece of chocolate cake?"
"Sure thing, sweetheart. And for you?" she asked, turning to Mac.
"I'll have a piece of apple pie, thank you."
The other woman didn't even bother to write the order down; she just smiled and walked back toward the kitchen. The two detectives sat their awkwardly, neither sure of what could or should be said. Before they could make a decision, the waitress was back, setting their desserts in front of them. Saved from having to say anything, they both dug in.
They were almost halfway finished when Mac did something unexpected. Reaching over, he batted her fork away with his own, and made an attempt to steal a piece of her cake. Laughing, Michelle fought him back, trying to keep him from getting any.
"You little thief, you!" she exclaimed.
Smiling broadly, he made another move for her cake, but this time Michelle was ready for him. She lifted her fork up a little higher before rapping it down on the back of his hand.
"Ow!" Mac complained, rubbing the back of his hand.
"You poor baby," Michelle replied, rolling her eyes. Giving him a coy smile, she cut a piece of cake with her fork before holding the utensil in front of him. "Here you go."
His eyes met hers, and she was struck by the spark that went through her entire system. Trying to keep her hand steady, she watched as he opened his mouth, leaning towards her fork. He never broke eye contact, even as he took the cake, his tongue running over his lips as he savored the taste.
Michelle couldn't breathe. Her eyes left Mac's, traveling down until they rested on his lips. She unconsciously swallowed hard, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. Mac just smiled at her and cut a piece of his pie.
"Your turn," he said quietly.
She didn't remember telling her mouth to open. Nevertheless, Mac slid the piece of pie past her lips and onto her tongue. Involuntarily, her eyes closed as she consumed it, the flavor exploding through her mouth as she let out a satisfied sigh.
When she opened her eyes again, she found Mac still staring at her. Slowly, he set down the fork, bringing his hand back up to her face. He caressed her cheek with his thumb gently, and Michelle's breath caught in her throat.
"Here you go," the oblivious waitress announced, setting the check down on the table between them. "You two have a good night."
Dropping his hand, Mac couldn't help but chuckle. He looked back up at Michelle, regarding her for a minute.
"You ready to get out of here?"
"Definitely."
She reached into her purse for her wallet, only to find that Mac had already taken the check and was paying up at the cash register. When he met her at the door, she looked at him ruefully.
"I was supposed to be treating," she scolded.
Mac shrugged. "You paid last time."
They moved outside, and he hailed her a cab; they lived in opposite directions, and they would have to take separate cabs home. He opened the door for her, but just as she went to climb in, he took a hold of her arm, forcing her to turn back around.
"I want to take you to dinner," he said quietly.
There was something in his voice that told Michelle that this was more than just a friendly request. Her heart stuck in her throat as she gave him a nervous smile.
"Yes," she whispered.
He nodded, sighing in relief. Brushing a stray hair from her face, he leaned in slowly and placed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Michelle gasped in surprise, but he was already pulling away, a smile on his face.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
The only thing Michelle could do was nod. Getting into the cab, she gave the driver her address. She watched Mac until he was out of sight, and then leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes.