FIC: Interlude [CSI: New York; Mac/Stella]
Title: Interlude
Author: WhatBecomesOfYou
Fandom: CSI: New York
Characters: Mac Taylor/Stella Bonasera
Prompt: Dancing
Word Count: 561
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own CSI: New York or any of the characters from it.
Author's Notes: Written oh-so-long-ago that I don't even remember how old this is. Probably dates back to sometime last summer.
Mac was mystified, for, from somewhere in the quiet lab, a faint strain of music was playing. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had been crazy - or he preferred to think of it as dedicated - enough to stay late to catch up on the backlog of paperwork that developed from time to time. It wasn’t enough to throw off his concentration, but it was enough as to where he was startled. Music doesn’t just spontaneously turn on, for one thing, and perhaps whoever was his mysterious companion could commiserate with him over a cup of break room coffee.
Walking through the halls of the lab, he marveled at how serenely quiet the building was when it wasn’t the daytime home of many of New York’s finest. Only the softly wafting sounds of classical music, as well as the nighttime traffic coursing along the streets below, shattered the serenity.
Without the sight of anyone else in the building, he knew who his companion was. “Stella,” he said under his breath, happy, but not all together unsurprised. He should have checked her office first; it would have saved time in the long run.
Through the clear glass walls of her office, he saw her. Although paperwork could have been scattered across her desk for all he could tell, at least at that very moment, she appeared to be more at home at a ballroom, or perhaps a dance studio. For, instead of working on her paperwork, or trying to appear as though she was, she was dancing around her office, a coat rack pilfered from somewhere - he knew he recognized it but was unsure from where, exactly - acting as her partner. As she glided along, completely oblivious to everything but the strains of the music and her wooden dance partner, he never thought she looked more beautiful than in that moment.
He leaned against the doorframe, looking at her dance. “I didn’t know you were still here,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Oh! Mac! I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were still here,” she said, hurriedly stuffing the coat rack in the corner and smoothing down her shirt. “I’ll get back to work.” She hit the power button on the radio and cast the room into silence as she sat back down at her desk and grabbed a pen.
He shook his head. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?” She glanced up from the top sheet of paperwork.
“Stop dancing.”
“What about the paperwork? You said it needed to be done soon, so I stayed late.”
“I thought everyone had left.”
She shrugged, flipping a few curls behind one shoulder. “I had dry-cleaning to pick up, so I left for a little bit to take care of that.”
Walking around to her side of the desk, he laid his hands on top of hers. “Stella, will you dance with me?”
“I’m sure you’re a better dancer than the coat rack over there,” she said, gesturing to it. “And yes, Mac.” She stood up and hit the power button on the radio again, allowing the soft strains of classical music to fill the room. “Shall we dance?”
As they fell into step with each other, Mac mentally amended his earlier thought. This was the most beautiful she had ever looked, dancing in his arms.
-fini-
Author: WhatBecomesOfYou
Fandom: CSI: New York
Characters: Mac Taylor/Stella Bonasera
Prompt: Dancing
Word Count: 561
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own CSI: New York or any of the characters from it.
Author's Notes: Written oh-so-long-ago that I don't even remember how old this is. Probably dates back to sometime last summer.
Mac was mystified, for, from somewhere in the quiet lab, a faint strain of music was playing. As far as he knew, he was the only one who had been crazy - or he preferred to think of it as dedicated - enough to stay late to catch up on the backlog of paperwork that developed from time to time. It wasn’t enough to throw off his concentration, but it was enough as to where he was startled. Music doesn’t just spontaneously turn on, for one thing, and perhaps whoever was his mysterious companion could commiserate with him over a cup of break room coffee.
Walking through the halls of the lab, he marveled at how serenely quiet the building was when it wasn’t the daytime home of many of New York’s finest. Only the softly wafting sounds of classical music, as well as the nighttime traffic coursing along the streets below, shattered the serenity.
Without the sight of anyone else in the building, he knew who his companion was. “Stella,” he said under his breath, happy, but not all together unsurprised. He should have checked her office first; it would have saved time in the long run.
Through the clear glass walls of her office, he saw her. Although paperwork could have been scattered across her desk for all he could tell, at least at that very moment, she appeared to be more at home at a ballroom, or perhaps a dance studio. For, instead of working on her paperwork, or trying to appear as though she was, she was dancing around her office, a coat rack pilfered from somewhere - he knew he recognized it but was unsure from where, exactly - acting as her partner. As she glided along, completely oblivious to everything but the strains of the music and her wooden dance partner, he never thought she looked more beautiful than in that moment.
He leaned against the doorframe, looking at her dance. “I didn’t know you were still here,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Oh! Mac! I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were still here,” she said, hurriedly stuffing the coat rack in the corner and smoothing down her shirt. “I’ll get back to work.” She hit the power button on the radio and cast the room into silence as she sat back down at her desk and grabbed a pen.
He shook his head. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?” She glanced up from the top sheet of paperwork.
“Stop dancing.”
“What about the paperwork? You said it needed to be done soon, so I stayed late.”
“I thought everyone had left.”
She shrugged, flipping a few curls behind one shoulder. “I had dry-cleaning to pick up, so I left for a little bit to take care of that.”
Walking around to her side of the desk, he laid his hands on top of hers. “Stella, will you dance with me?”
“I’m sure you’re a better dancer than the coat rack over there,” she said, gesturing to it. “And yes, Mac.” She stood up and hit the power button on the radio again, allowing the soft strains of classical music to fill the room. “Shall we dance?”
As they fell into step with each other, Mac mentally amended his earlier thought. This was the most beautiful she had ever looked, dancing in his arms.
-fini-