JPL ~ Cmdr Waterhouse & MCPO Caine ~ "It's Drawing Me In And Pulling Me To You" Pt I/II

Posted on Sat Jan 17th, 2015 @ 3:56am by Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine & Commander Amelia Waterhouse

3,031 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

The day begun with Rik Caine pulling awake with a dry throat and a head that was ringing like church bells. He refused to open his eyes in case it had all been some kind of wonderful dream and waking up proper would leave a bitter disappointment in his mouth worse than the cheap whiskey he had shared with the beautiful red headed vixen. Unless of course he'd ended up so blind drunk the whole scene had been straight out of a raunchy holo-novel and not reality. Two things came to mind as he brought himself further into consciousness, the first that the bed he was in was absurdly comfortable and the second was someone else's hand resting in his. No dream then. He was thankful for that.

Rik opened his eyes and took a little look around; the glimmer of streaking star light outside the window caressing the room. Four posts. Soft sheets… he looked to his side and the owner of the hand. Amelia. As she lay asleep he smiled remembering and savouring every blissful moment the night before had brought from her innocent arrival to barely keeping hands and lips apart as they somehow made it to her joint and into the bedroom. A Chandler quote formed in his mind from nowhere; to say she had a face that would have stopped a clock would have been to insult her. It would have stopped a runaway horse. Fitting. She was a knockout even as she slept.

He wondered to himself how she would feel the morning after the night before; if there would be regrets. He wondered if he himself had got in too deep; he always did when there was something worthwhile. Amelia; was the epitome of worthwhile. He'd never met anyone quite like that dame and as she lay, peacefully, he couldn’t help but smile again; they'd shot to the stars and back down again. He leaned over and softly kissed her.

"Good morning Amelia" he whispered with somewhat husky tones in her ear as he kissed her again.

"Mornin'," she murmured back softly, followed by a soft noise in the back of her throat — not far from a purr. The sound of her name on his lips still gave her a thrill, and hopefully would for a while yet; a smile spread as she shifted closer to him, and a hand found its way to the back of his neck with her fingers sliding into his hair. "I'm glad you didn't turn into a pumpkin and disappear before I woke up," she said softly, her eyes drinking in the sight of him in her bed. That was certainly a view she could happily get used to. Those blue eyes of his with their icy depths, his handsome jaw, the rugged five o'clock shadow... she tried to picture him clean shaven, but the image didn't want to stick. She'd see it soon enough, the uniform regs did insist, but she was pretty sure she knew where she'd want to tell those regs to go.

It had only been by miracle of the time of night that they'd made it back to her quarters without running into another person, but she couldn't say if anyone had seen them. They could have walked past the whole Klingon Defense Force and she may not have even noticed, that's how distracting she found him. That he hadn't run away yet gave her hope that this wasn't destined to be another one night stand.

"As much as I'd love to savor this, I'll be tempted to not leave the bed all day if we do," she confessed with a soft sigh and a quick kiss. "Rochelle would send a search party, and call it a hunch, but I suspect you'd prefer for your first meeting with our CO to not occur wrapped in my bed sheet. So, breakfast? I think I can scrounge up French toast without having to touch the replicator." She half sat up, turned and leaning over him so her hair hung in waves around her face, the ends pooling where they touched him. She didn't remember taking her hair down before falling asleep, but she was glad she did.

With a view greater than any postcard he watched her as she positioned herself half-over him. "Where would I go? The only place worth being is right here. Plus doll, I ain't some sleazy boob about to take off in the night. And... I don't like pumpkin" he winked. Rik sighed a little and smiled with that devil's grin "we could always say we're sick and steal the day to ourselves?" he tempted sliding his hands round her back and pulling her closer. At the moment they were wrapped in the green sheets, hidden from the world and the chaos outside this room. "I mean... Whose gunna doubt a dame like you and miss an ol' gum-shoe like me" he teased as he kissed her again.

He clocked a look that should have stuck four feet out the other side of him; a good idea but one he supposed wasn't possible. He thought about resigning himself to a day of work and no redheaded beauty to while away the hours with. Not a sound thought he commented internally. With a swift move he flipped the situation like tossing a pancake in a frying pan and was now looking down at her. The red hair tussled about the pillow like paint on canvas. On his shoulder a large scar more visible in the starlight than it had been and a bat tattoo just underneath. He wondered if she'd noticed all the badges he wore - the marks that defined a career, a lifetime. "Don't get me wrong" he said kissing her soft neck "breakfast sounds swell - but..." He kissed her again "we could... Get away with it" he concluded with another devilish grin straight outta hell. "Colour me intrigued though... Where'd a dame like you learn to make breakfast without needing a replicator?" He asked wanting to know more about the dame he was sharing a bed with.

Her eyes closed as his lips explored the sensitive skin of her neck, provoking soft sighs. She wanted to run with his suggestion, but she knew if Rochelle caught them at playing hookey this would have no chance of being more than a fleeting dalliance.

"You would think that someone who's done as much field work for Intel as I have would be a better liar," she said as she laid her hand on his face, her eyes falling into his. "But I can't lie to anyone I see as family. With the things she and I have been through, Rochelle's family." Her eyes darted to the scar and tattoo on his shoulder — she'd noted both, as well as other scars, the night before, but the chance hadn't really come up to ask. "But if you're good and let me out of bed, I can offer a consolation prize. I'll make you dinner tonight, and tell you all about the up hill battle my Gram faced trying to instill what little kitchen skill I have." Her hand fell to his shoulder and her thumb traced the scar. "Do you count coup too?"

"Well you are full of surprises aren't you Miss Amelia - a former spook eh?" He questioned impressed at her past career of choice. "What made ya leave the shadows for the world of command?" He asked "or would you have to bump me off if you told me?" he added with a grin tracing his finger lightly across the area she was scarred wondering if there had been some kind of connection but not knowing how to ask. "Count coup?" he queried not really knowing the expression.

"There is no such thing as a former spook. We're either active, inactive, or burned. As for why I'm inactive, and command instead? Rochelle. She asked, and well, there's any number of reasons I couldn't say no, not the least of which would be killing my career," Amelia explained with a shrug. "But, you know, if you can't keep your trap shut, I may have to send you to sleep with the space fishes," she returned with a giggle as she felt his finger trace the scar. Her eyes dropped to watch, then she looked back up at his question. "An old earth term... belongs to the people who lived in North America before it was known as the United States," she explained, her thumb still tracing the scar on his shoulder. "It was considered honorable in battle to return with a feather from an enemy warrior's headdress, like a way of saying they saw battle and lived to tell the tale. My scar has a story about the end of a long under cover assignment I'd been on, and a fight with a man I wasn't sure I could beat. I did walk away, and he didn't." She was quiet for a beat. "I also have a knife that I took off a guy who tried to mug me in Central Park during leave. That was amusing, though it's certainly a less impressive feather, so to speak." She half laughed.

He raised an eyebrow "well doll you weren't lying - you're all kinds of trouble ain't ya?" He said with a wink. Her story wasn't shocking but exciting. Her spirit similar in the decision to wear the war wounds like a badge. "Well... I'm glad you won on both accounts; this assignment wouldn't have been nearly as interesting otherwise. I'd love to hear the tale sometime; guessing it's classified though which I understand well enough". Rik mused for a moment "I kept each scar as a reminder of a life lost, life saved or hood put in the slammer" he added not knowing how much of his past she was already aware of. "I cut my teeth in Special Forces before moving into Security Investigations and the life of a gum-shoe proper. 'Fraid that scar doesn't have quite the impressive tale though. My sister stabbed me with a fire poker" he admitted. That scar was kept as a reminder; he'd failed her and was still atoning.

Rik paused and mulled over a previous comment wondering if he should concede the battle to win the war and get to see the fiery dame again "you wanna see me again?" He said with almost surprise in his tone - he wasn't used to someone wanting more than one night. With her, it felt about as right as warmed cream in a coffee - perfect. "I guess Lady Luck must really love me to offer more" before making the decision to add some more "I'd love to - although I'm not moving without a kiss from those ruby reds". Like a stubborn child he waited never once taking his ice blues off her - she was too damn pretty too look elsewhere. "Common you know you want to" he said in a French accent so bad and obviously fake it was as rank as sour milk on a hot summer's day. He winced; had he really done that out loud - he was fairly certain whatever credibility he had was flying out the window like a bird released from its cage. "That's err... that's why I never became a spook... can't do accents" he said still wincing and wondering what expression he was getting in return.

She giggled at him, and caught him behind the neck, pulling him down to her so their noses nearly touched. "Just promise me you'll never ever try that again, and you have a deal," she insisted through the giggles, then pulled him into the requested kiss. "And it's less about accents and just what languages you speak. I can talk dirty to you in your choice of Klingon, Orion, Standard, or Vulcan... though I'll admit that Vulcan is a creative challenge to do so. Considering I haven't actually seduced anyone who speaks it, I usually just recite math equations." She giggled and kissed him again, this time gently pushing him to make him sit up. "Do you drink coffee or tea?" she asked as she moved to the edge of the bed, her hand lingering on his. "I have some of the real stuff, if you like tea."

"That's a deal I'll gladly take" he managed to get out before being embraced. Sweet like honey and with passion enough to raise the temperature he sighed as they broke apart and she made to get up. "Well doll, that I've gotta see sometime - a fine sight I'm sure. And Klingon seduction just sounds fun" he quipped trying to picture Vulcan seduction and settling on it being as out of place as a tarantula on angel cake. "My languages are pretty limited - Orion mostly, little bit of Cardassian and the odd curse word in Romulan" he paused sliding his fingers over hers as if he was putting the last piece of a puzzle in place. "What d'ya think doll - think I could make it as a spook?" He joked. "I drink both - not had real tea in an awful long time. But I'd love a cup" he concluded with a signature smile playing across his lips as he took in the sight of her soft and pale back and the interesting ink contrasted against the fire red of flowing hair.

"Orion, huh?" She grinned wide as she stood and she gathered her hair at the nape of her neck. "It's such a lovely language, full of subtle meaning and double entendre... But what else can you expect from a society run by gorgeous women and heavily invested in piracy?" A couple quick twists, and her hair was tied in a knot as she padded to her dresser. "If you wanted, you probably could be a ghost. It's mostly people skills and quick thinking on your feet... Most everything else can be taught." She turned to face him as she collected a lime green hair stick from her dresser. The stick quickly slipped into the knot of fiery hair.

"You're familiar?" he asked once again impressed. "Me and the Syndicate parted on... interesting terms... last I was in one of their dives chinning with a big-shot hood" he added "but yes, it's certainly an interesting one to bring out at the office shin-dig" he chuckled. "Well I 'spose when you boot me to the sidewalk I may need a career change; good to know" he said with a wink.

Accepting defeat was never easy; he faced the end like a General on the front lines preparing to surrender. They were getting up, the day was starting. "Anything I can do to help?" He offered while flopping back into the pillows like a cast off shirt not wanting to wave the white flag just yet.

"You can get that cute butt of yours out of bed and keep me company while I cook. We're not at the breakfast in bed stage yet," she teased, crossing her arms as she let her eyes wander the whole length of him. "Do you take anything in your tea?"

"Mmm... well seeing as you asked so nice like - breakfast in bed tomorrow then?" he said drawing out his words and getting up from the bed with a devilish grin as he chanced his luck and before she threw something his way. Rik was standing looking for where his clothes had ended up. He turned his head to face her once again "and yeah; I s'pose it is" he said with another devilish grin as he found his shorts and pulled them on providing him with a small amount of modesty as he grabbed his trousers from the floor; belt nowhere to be seen like an escaped pet from a cage. "Small amount of milk and a spoon of sugar; strong and sweet thanks. Level with me baby; what's the ink; not anything I can place design wise - it got special meaning?" he asked fastening the buttons and turning to face her fully with interest at the unusual design on her lower back.

"The nunchuks were the first weapon I learned to handle, I have a pair just like the ones in the tat," Amelia answered his question with a pout as she watched him get dressed. "The rest of the design is the result of silliness between my brother and I. He did the art for it, and probably would have volunteered to do the needle work if he'd been around when I got it done. You may have noticed more of his handy work on the way in last night, if I didn't distract you too much to notice the paintings." She grinned as she headed out of the bedroom, and towards the kitchen.

The paintings in question hung on the walls as promised. One had a younger Amelia locked in combat by bat'leth with an older woman. The other woman had hair just as fiery as Amelia's, spots and forehead to match, though the spots were darker and more like those of a full Trill. The other painting had four anthropomorphic turtles wearing red masks, holding weapons: twin katanas, nunchuks, sai, and a bo. Behind them, as ghostly shadows, stood four well known Renaissance artists.

Into the kitchen with a clatter she went, kettle on the stove, two large hand thrown mugs in splatters and steaks of green lined up on the counter with mesh balls inside filled with loose leaf tea and chains dangling charms over the lip of the mugs — one featured a bat and the other a little Wonder Woman tiara. Eggs, milk, spices, bread, and sugar emerged from cabinets and the fridge.

"Why are you convinced I'm going to kick you to the curb?" The question floated over the cacophony of her efforts as she started mixing ingredients in a bowl.

=/\= Continued in Part II =/\=

Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

MCPO Rik Caine
Security Investigator/Chief of the Boat
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

 

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