Responding to an insistent knock, Maria opened the kitchen door to the last person she ever would have expected to see at her house, let alone using the door like a...well, like a human! Which he isn't, she reminded herself firmly, determined to ignore the way he made her breathe all funny just by looking at her.

"Well?" she demanded, and he quirked a brow at her in that infuriating way he had, surveying her from her tousled hair to her small bare feet with colorfully painted toenails.

"Well what?" he tossed back at her, smirking at her discomfort, although he was squelching plenty of his own. Neither was exactly meeting the other's eyes.

"Well, what are you doing here, Michael?" her voice made his name sound heavenly. She'd meant to sound as snippity as possible but he'd caught her off guard showing up like this, and she wasn't really prepared. He looked...well, he looked like a hot fudge sundae would to a dieter...sinfully delicious. Teflon, she reminded herself. I am Teflon.

"I...well..." Their eyes finally met, hers the tawny golden-green of a cat's and his the smooth honey-brown of a southern bayou, and his carefully prepared noncommittal excuses melted away. "I wanted to see you." His fumbling brain finally came up with something to cover his ass and he hastily added, "I mean, I saw you in the kitchen and wanted to make sure you didn't blow yourself up or something," he averted his gaze slightly to avoid hers. He fixated on the breakfast table beyond her, repeating to himself mentally, "mud...mud..." and caught site of the napkin holder he'd made for her on the table next to a centerpiece of flowers. Where Maria's mom had found napkins printed with little green aliens, he was not even going to ask. The corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile that made her want to kiss him right there.

"Well, here I am, you've seen me, I'm in one piece, now you can go," she returned, trying to muster her best Michael glare to dismiss him. "What are you smiling at?"

"That's a hell of a napkin holder you've got there, must have been pricey," he teased her, and she couldn't help giggling.

"You don't know the half of it," she bantered, and then both sobered as their eyes met again.

"Can I come in?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Sure, c'mon, ruin my day, why don't you," she muttered under her breath as she moved away from the door. He heard her, even though she only half-hoped he would, and he eyed the smooth ivory column of her neck as she turned back into the kitchen.

He said "That's what I live for," and stopped short as she whirled to face him.

"YOU," she said, poking a finger none too gently into his chest, "will NOT screw with my head today. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," he returned, trying not to burst into laughter at the expression on her face. Apparently she had been housecleaning to a small degree--the dishwasher was half unloaded and there was a kitchen towel lying on the edge of the sink. She made a beeline back to that side of the kitchen.

I could sing forever
Get drunk on guitar
Feel the drum and bass
But it would never replace
Who you are

"Is told me about the show, I never knew you could sing," he said suddenly, and she tossed a glance back at him.

"You were not there, you still don't know," she said pointedly.

"Word gets around in...in our group," he hesitated, unfamiliar with inclusive terms that included him, but pleased with the rightness he felt in saying "our." "I'd like to hear you sometime," he offered, and she chuckled.

"No smart-alecky remarks? No 'I'd like to hear you so mating cats and howling dogs sound good in comparison?' No 'I'd like to hear you so I can peel the paint off this canvas I messed up on?' Just 'I'd like to hear you'?"

"Just that," he answered, "but don't get used to it." She chuckled again and a smile touched his mouth at the sound. He loved to aggravate her but also found pleasing her rather intriguing. She continued to dry and put away dishes and a surprisingly comfortable silence descended between them. In spite of the way they bickered like preschoolers, they understood each other too well after their road trip to really be strangers to each other.

Michael hung back by the breakfast area and appeared to study the flowers while he covertly admired the way she looked in cotton shorts and tank...her small waist and the gentle swell of her hips called to him because he remembered all too well how perfectly she fit into his arms. "Michael's got feelings after all!" Isabel would have crowed victoriously if she knew what he was thinking. Maria would have broken a plate over his head, he was sure. Maybe some Corningware, since it was heavier and much more suited to his hard head, he could almost hear her correcting him mentally.

"Why are you drying dishes by hand if you're gonna use the washer to wash 'em?" his tone of voice indicated that this was more of Maria being silly.

"Because the washer is a piece of crap?" she returned haughtily, not looking at him. She reached in for a bowl and as she brought it out a warm hand covered hers briefly as he lifted it out of her grasp. "You startled me," she said, proud of herself for not jumping. She had not even heard him move, damn his cat-like grace anyway, and now he was standing close enough to her that she could feel the heat of his skin...his silky, golden skin...stop it, she told herself, stop it RIGHT NOW Maria!

I could set this cold blue world ablaze
But the sun would still rise
And I would never replace Who you are

"Sorry," he offered, trying to concentrate on drying the bowl instead of on the blond pixie so close beside him, and he was rewarded by a peal of bell-like laughter.

"YOU, wait, I need a tape recorder...say that word again!" Maria could not stop laughing.

"Shut up," he rolled the dish towel and snapped at her with it.

"You missed, space-brain!" she shouted, and squealed as he rolled it again and advanced on her with a determined look on his face.

"Take that!" he teased, popping her a few times in succession.

"Michael, quit it! OW!!" He scored a couple of hits on her but stopped when one raised a red mark on her forearm. "Alien creep," she glared at him.

Glaring right back at her, he muttered, "Bubble head," as he laced his fingers through hers and lifted her arm.

"Michael, what are you--ohh..." she trailed off as he softly touched his mouth to her arm. She felt the warmth of his breath as he hovered briefly over the spot he'd made, and then brushed a delicate butterfly kiss onto her skin. Her eyes were wide as she watched him and saw the flicker of his tongue as he tasted her. He released her hand and closed his arms around her shoulders, drawing her to him and holding her tightly. She circled his waist with her arms and felt his ragged breathing stirring the hair on top of her head as he tried to get himself under control.

"I should go," he spoke softly after a moment, and for once she didn't yell at him or argue with him.

"If you need to," she responded, her fingers tracing the shape of his spine through his thin cotton shirt.

"In a minute," he decided, dropping a kiss on the blond crown of her head, which he found did not help his equilibrium any, for she smelled deliciously of raspberries. "Where's your mom?" he asked, trying to recover some semblance of normality.

"She'll be home late Sunday night, she's at one of her weird convention things again," Maria replied.

"Oh." Brilliant, Guerin, he thought to himself, you're alone with her and you know you can't keep away from her. Run, you moron, before you do something stupid. Or don't do it...

I'd take a train to nowhere A rocket to mars Get lost in space But I could never replace Who you are

"OK, I'm going," he said, not relaxing his embrace even a fraction of an inch. He felt the vibrations of her giggle muffled in his chest and he couldn't mask an answering smile. "C'mon, get off of me, you weigh a ton," he teased her, and she snatched her arms from around his waist and tickled him mercilessly, a stern look on her face barely staying there as she fought not to laugh.

"Pig. Male pig," she said, struggling to escape his grasp as he caught her wrists and held them loosely in between their bodies.

"Oink," he replied with a wicked sparkle in his eyes, and she had to laugh. "I really am going this time," he said, and he slipped his hands into her smaller ones and held them for a moment. Crossing his fingers, he said, "This doesn't change anything I said," and at her puzzled look he leaned forward and brushed her lips delicately with his. "I still don't like you," he murmured softly against her mouth, and he felt her fingers cross as she joined his childhood game.

"I don't like you either.." she fibbed right along with him, and kept her eyes closed for a moment after she felt him withdraw. When she opened them he was in the doorway looking back at her, and then he was gone. Feeling strangely contented, she returned to her dishes with a dreamy smile that didn't leave her face for quite a while.