FIC: Bakers Squared [CSI:NY; T] for medie
Title: Bakers Squared
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia>)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; girl!Mac/Don
General info: Genderbender; Not mine; T
Summary: For medie> for the Alphabet Meme. Her prompt was Don/girl-Mac, baking. A bit late for Halloween, but there's a whole season of holiday baking coming up.
Words: 361
You're not certain whose idea it was in the first place, but somehow you find yourself playing sous chef as Don whips up a veritable feast of desserts. It's almost Halloween, a night you both miraculously have off, and someone decided that the trick-or-treaters deserved homemade goodies this year.
Actually, you know exactly who the idea belonged to, having suggested to Don that perhaps prepackaged candy would be better appreciated by parents of the coming children. He had shaken his head, handing you a bowl of cookie batter to mix as he said, "We're cops, Mac. It's a helluva lot safer coming from us than some other weirdo."
You conceded because you've seen Don Flack in this mood before, and it's easiest just to go along and enjoy the fruits of your labor later. You don't need to tell him that there's already a bowl of candy in the cupboard. For all his talk this is more about spending time together cooking - baking, he corrects you when you ask about what you're cooking - than feeding any dressed up children.
Having lived through your schedules for the past month, and seen what the upcoming few weeks look like what with court dates and extra shifts, you're happy for any time with him you can get. Even if your kitchen is going to look like a hurricane swept through before you're finished. Anything is worth that look he gives you as you lick the spatula, the last of the cookies decorated and put aside like a menagerie of cats, bats, and ghosts waiting for their icing to set. His brilliant blue eyes darken as he gives you that smirk that never fails to twist you up inside.
You barely have time to set the bowl aside before he pulls you into his arms, his lips tasting of buttercream and vanilla. You lean into him, arms wrapping around him as the kiss deepens. When you finally pull away, struggling to catch your breath, you can't help but return his satisfied grin.
"So," you ask, your voice breathy, "have any more holiday baking planned?"
"Just enough to keep us going through the New Year."
comments at Dreamwidth.
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia>)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; girl!Mac/Don
General info: Genderbender; Not mine; T
Summary: For medie> for the Alphabet Meme. Her prompt was Don/girl-Mac, baking. A bit late for Halloween, but there's a whole season of holiday baking coming up.
Words: 361
You're not certain whose idea it was in the first place, but somehow you find yourself playing sous chef as Don whips up a veritable feast of desserts. It's almost Halloween, a night you both miraculously have off, and someone decided that the trick-or-treaters deserved homemade goodies this year.
Actually, you know exactly who the idea belonged to, having suggested to Don that perhaps prepackaged candy would be better appreciated by parents of the coming children. He had shaken his head, handing you a bowl of cookie batter to mix as he said, "We're cops, Mac. It's a helluva lot safer coming from us than some other weirdo."
You conceded because you've seen Don Flack in this mood before, and it's easiest just to go along and enjoy the fruits of your labor later. You don't need to tell him that there's already a bowl of candy in the cupboard. For all his talk this is more about spending time together cooking - baking, he corrects you when you ask about what you're cooking - than feeding any dressed up children.
Having lived through your schedules for the past month, and seen what the upcoming few weeks look like what with court dates and extra shifts, you're happy for any time with him you can get. Even if your kitchen is going to look like a hurricane swept through before you're finished. Anything is worth that look he gives you as you lick the spatula, the last of the cookies decorated and put aside like a menagerie of cats, bats, and ghosts waiting for their icing to set. His brilliant blue eyes darken as he gives you that smirk that never fails to twist you up inside.
You barely have time to set the bowl aside before he pulls you into his arms, his lips tasting of buttercream and vanilla. You lean into him, arms wrapping around him as the kiss deepens. When you finally pull away, struggling to catch your breath, you can't help but return his satisfied grin.
"So," you ask, your voice breathy, "have any more holiday baking planned?"
"Just enough to keep us going through the New Year."
comments at Dreamwidth.