An Unconformable conversation for an Uncomfortable Situation

She woke up to the sound of her alarm. She had slept through the night, a solid six hours of sleep. She didn't wake up once. She couldn't remember her dreams. All she knew was she felt good. She showered and dressed in record time. She was due in court in an hour. For the first time in a long time, she had to care about how she was going to look. She still wasn't going to wear a skirt or heels. She went into the bathroom and put on a little bit of makeup. She had straightened her hair the night before. The shirt she picked was more dressy than usual, and her pants hugged her "assets" a little more than usual. Today, she was dressed in business professional. She took one last look at herself in the mirror.

Did someone die? OMG! Did I die again?

"No. No one died. I have to go to court."

Are you sure it has nothing to do with your little rendezvous with an incredibly Special Agent Cowboy?

"That was weeks ago. I haven't seen him since. And besides, what do you know about it?"

Do you need help remembering it? I know stuff.

She rolled her eyes at him.

Well, do you remember?

"I remember enough. I work with him. I tend to remember things when I do them with people I know, no matter how drunk I am."

So, you remember the back seat of his truck?

"If I say yes, can we please drop the topic?"

Sure. If you admit it, I will not mention it again.

"Yes, Malibu, I do remember. I remember shots, a creepy man hitting on me, Kissing Dean, more shots, more shots, more kissing, going to his truck, and more stuff."

Just Stuff?

"Yes, Stuff, and it's none of your stuffing business."

Haha... I see what you did there.

"As long as you didn't see what I did in the back of the truck."

Are you going to tell him you remember next time you see him?

"I could have sworn that you said you wouldn't mention it again."

I lied.

"I need you to get out of my head, and I need to go to court."

Well, I am here if you need me to refresh your memory.

Dean stepped out of the shower. His body was tan left over from the summer. The definition of his muscles is sensual. His triceps, biceps, pectorals, and arms looked like they could shield you from a nuclear blast if you were in his embrace. His hands were large, and they looked strong, hard as steel, but soft and kind simultaneously. His abs sported a 6-pack. His lion of Apollo was so defined it looked like it had been carved out of marble. {If you don't know what that is, Google it. You won't be disappointed.} His ass was firm and rounded perfectly. There were drops of water trickling down, tracing its silhouette. His legs were muscular but proportionate. They looked like they could support the weight of the world and would never tire. His face was ideally suited to his body as if his creator knew. His chin came to a V shape. His lips were thin, but the perfect cupid's bow made them look seductive and kissable. His green eyes looked like emeralds when they caught the light. He was a remarkable sight. His form belonged in a museum among the statues of the Gods. He was a Titan among men with no exaggerations.

He shaved his face. His dark brown hair was in a style that was perfect and tousled at the same time. He chose a lilac-colored button-down shirt. He left three buttons undone and no tie today. The color made his eyes stand out even more. His black dress slacks hung perfectly. His dress shoes shined like mirrors.

Unlike Allie, he did go for style, not function. He spritzed three sprays of cologne in the air and walked through it. He didn't take one last look in the mirror; he knew he looked good. He was confident, not cocky.

He picked up his holster and gun from the kitchen counter and put them on his belt. He put on his black leather coat and headed out the door.

He drove a Black Ford F350. It was the new model, enormous, and fit him perfectly. It was an expensive truck, too expensive for a federal employee. It was costly for a federal employee. He easily climbed up into the crew cab. He made it look effortless, like stepping up onto a curb.

Dean got there before Allie did. He hadn't been around for a couple of weeks. The last time he saw her, things got sticky, sweaty... a little heavy, and very awkward. He had told Bruss that he was going to be there today. He missed his "Bill." Bruss shared the information with Allie in case she needed to know.

"Hey, Bill," Dean said.

"Hey, Ted," Bruss replied.

"Is she here?"

"Not yet. What? I'm not good enough?"

"Oh, you know I love you. Don't get jealous," Dean said.

"We need to go get a drink."

"I am game for that."

Allie walked in and immediately sat down at her desk. She started shuffling papers, trying to look calm and collected.

Dean smiled. She looked beautiful. He wanted to say something, but he didn't want her to think that she didn't look beautiful all the time but today, she had a subtle amount of makeup on, and her outfit was very professional.

"Hey. It's good to see you again, Allie," he said.

Allie didn't reply. She wasn't sure what to say. All she could think of was her on his lap in the back of his truck.

"So, Carron, how's it hanging to the left or the right?" Bruss laughed.

Allie and Dean's faces froze, both wide-eyed. He didn't look at her, and she didn't dare look at him.

"Kingston, are you wearing makeup? Who died?" Bruss asked.

"Nobody died… I had court this morning."

"That's a relief," he said. "I've never seen that outfit before. Did you straighten your hair? Wow, it is really long. You never wear it down at work."

"Court Bruss, I had court,"

"Are you sure it's just because you had court?"

Allie's face got warm, and she could feel the blood in her ears getting hot. She is going to kill him the very next chance she gets if he doesn't stop insinuating she dressed up for any other reason than court.

"You know what, Patrick, someone might be dead by the end of the day," she said.

"You know, Carron, you look rather good today yourself. I like the outfit. I can see my reflection in those shoes." Bruss said and sat down in his chair. "Doesn't he look nice today Kingston?"

Good enough to kiss, lick and suck.

I heard that.

She ignored Malibu and said nothing to Bruss.

"Is that Lilac? You know Kingston's favorite color is lilac. Not lavender, lilac."

"I didn't know that," Dean said.

"She's also allergic to roses," he whispered.

"I didn't know that either," he whispered back.

Damn! And you thought I was being pushy! He might as well book you two a room or the backseat of a pickup truck.

"Malibu, let...it...go."

Silence fell between them. It's possible a tumbleweed skidded across the floor at some point.

Bruss could easily tell something was going on between them. The air was uncomfortable, almost suffocating.

He decided to break the silence. "Hey, good news. We have a possible suspect. Alvarez and Davis are bringing him in. And God do I hope they get here soon," Bruss said.

Both Dean and Allie said nothing.

"I'm going to get some more coffee. You can never have too much coffee," he said.

Bruss grabbed his mug and headed to the breakroom, leaving them alone.

Allie looked up at Dean.

"You can sit down. My neck would appreciate it," she said with a slight smile.

He sat down in the extra chair next to her desk. You could feel the tension between them. They smiled at each other, but the silence was awkward and uncomfortable.

Finally, she spoke. "So, about that night at Muldoon's--"

He excitedly cut her off. "You remember that night? Like actually remember it? All of it?" he asked.

"I would like to say that I have no memory of it, but unfortunately, I do."

Unfortunately? Man, that was a little callous Caretaker.

"Unfortunately?" Dean said, looking hurt. "I thought maybe it meant a little something to you. It did for me, even if it was just a one-time thing."

"Okay, that came out wrong. I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy myself. I am saying that it was extremely inappropriate on my part. I should have exercised better judgment. We are co-workers and need to maintain some sort of professional decorum."

Nice save.

"That's not bullshit, Malibu; I mean it."

"Let's just chalk it up to shots and..." she paused.

Finish that sentence, big guy. Say it with me... And the extreme sexual attraction that you have for her. Malibu spoke into his ear.

"Bad timing. But I am happy you were there to save me from the ominous guy who didn't seem to want to take no for an answer," she said. "But I really could have done it in a completely different way. One that didn't involve you, me, and your F350."

But God, I would love to do it again.

She looked into his eyes. It made her melt. She wanted to kiss him so badly. The word yearn would be appropriate.

Bad timing? Does that mean there is going to be good timing? he thought.

Dean said nothing, he just stared forward blankly. He knew what he was doing. He knew it was going to hurt. He thought it was going to hurt because she wasn't going to remember. It turned out that she did remember, and it hurt even worse. Maybe he was lucky she didn't remember the first time.

How many times are you going to let this woman rip your heart out, chew it up, and spit it out, he thought.

Bruss came out of the breakroom. "Hey, you two. They're here with the suspect. Interview room two," he said, motioning them to follow him.

They walked towards the interview room, passing Davis and Alvarez in the hallway.

"Hey, Allie. How's it going?" Alvarez asked

"I've had worse days."

"You look amazing," he said.

"Did someone die?"

"No, Davis. No one died."

Allie and Alex held their stares far too long, which made Dean angry and jealous. H recognized him from the Crawford crime scene. He knew there was a story there, one he probably didn't want to know.