Rating: PG
Pairing: Tim/Calleigh
Spoilers: None
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site Checkmate (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net); anywhere else, please ask.
Summary: You shouldn't kiss me like this unless you mean it like that…
Author's Notes: Who to blame for this one? Heidi for the tapes, as always, and Raven on the CSI:M fic list for posting the challenge, to write a fic with the opening line "Kiss me." Summary and title come from Toby Keith's song, You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This, though the story line is more like a George Strait number - virtual chocolate to whomsoever can guess which one!

"Kiss me."

The words had Tim Speedle turning surprised eyes on the woman in his arms, sure that he'd heard her wrong, that her words had been distorted by the music from the stage in the corner of the bar. Despite the insane air that this night had taken on, no matter how confused he was by the turn of events, there was no way, no possible way on this earth, or any other, that Calleigh Duquesne had just ordered him to kiss her.

Then one of her hands slid from his shoulder to the back of his head and pressed down, even as she was standing up on her toes slightly, and that's when her lips moulded themselves to his. He didn't respond for a second, stunned by the gesture, then instinct took over, and he tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he opened his mouth to hers. Even over the music, he could still hear the little whimper that she emitted, a sound that had him pressing her even closer to him, and he was dimly aware of her hands threading through his hair.

Time stopped, the world disappeared from around them, and there was nothing else that existed apart from the two of them.

When time restarted, and the world came back, Speed found himself staring into the wide eyes of one of his best friends and co-workers, saw her flushed cheeks, could feel her heart pounding as he held her, couldn't miss her rapid breathing. He was pretty sure that she was noticing pretty much the same thing with his.

But he knew what that kiss had been about, so there was only one thing to ask her.

"Did it work?"

Because, after all, that's what it had all been about. It hadn't been about him, hadn't been about them. He'd known that from the second that she'd sat down beside him.

He hadn't planned to come here tonight, had planned to go home, to sit in front of his couch, with a beer, and channel surf until sleep claimed him on his couch. But for some reason that he still couldn't fathom, he'd changed his mind halfway home, and he'd come here instead, to one of his favourite bars. It was Thursday night, the place was heaving with people, and the band, as it happened, was one that he knew and liked. So he'd found himself a seat at the bar, ordered a beer, then another one. He knew that he could order a cab home if the worst came to the worst, knew that his bike would be safe there.

He'd been surprised when a familiar voice sounded in his ear, was even more surprised at the edge of desperation that he heard there. But that surprise was nothing to the surprise when she slipped her arm around his waist as if it belonged there, and left it there.

"Pretend like you know me," were the words that she'd said to him, just loud enough that only he could hear them, and he'd turned slightly on his seat so that he could look at her, one brow arching as he did so.

"I could pretend that," he'd said, a smirk appearing on his face despite himself. "Except that I do actually know you."

Calleigh had shot him one of those looks that she usually reserved for anyone around the lab who'd said or done something particularly foolish. It had made him grin here though, not that he ever took that look seriously anyway. The grin might also have been because he'd looked her up and down as he turned, and she didn't look very much like the Calleigh that he worked with every day. She'd obviously put some effort into getting ready for the evening; her make-up was flawless, her hair curled, black trousers with pinstripes that glittered in the dim light of the bar, and some wispy kind of top that he swore could only be staying on her back thanks to the gaze of every man in the bar.

In short, she looked pretty damn amazing.

Except for the look she was giving him, and even then, that only lasted a second, before she bestowed on him a dazzling smile. At least, he was sure it was supposed to look dazzling, and from a distance, he was sure it did. From his close proximity though, he could see all too clearly the frosty steel underneath.

"Just look like you're happy to see me," she'd hissed between clenched teeth, and he grinned at her, more in bemusement than amusement.

"Are you implying that I wouldn't be happy to see you?" he'd asked, and her smile had slipped for a second as she'd glanced over his shoulder, turning back on full force as she looked back at him.

"Speed, could you please just do this for me and save the wisecracks for later?"

Her words had had him frowning, as did the way that her eyes seemed to gravitate to something behind him again, but he'd been distracted when the bartender came over to them, asking them if they wanted anything. "I'm fine," he'd said, waving his hand. "Calleigh?"

"Whiskey sour," had come the reply, with what looked like a harried smile and the bartender had scurried off to do her bidding, leaving Speed alone with Calleigh.

"Everything ok?" he'd asked, still frowning, and she nodded quickly.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just that you're not quite acting like yourself right now," Speed had replied. "And you're not a big whiskey drinker either."

She'd shrugged, her hand sliding off his back, both hands resting on the brass railing of the bar. "Desperate times," was all she'd said, and those hadn't been the words that he'd been wanting to hear. He'd been trying to figure out a way to ask her what was bugging her when the bartender came back with her drink, and Speed had reached into his pocket before Calleigh could get to her purse, paying for the drink. Seeing that, Calleigh had given him a quick, tight grin, before taking a sip of her drink, only a sip, Speed couldn’t help but notice.

"You want to tell me what's going on with you?"

He'd decided that the direct approach might be best, and she'd seemed to respond to that. "I arranged, with my friend Heidi, to meet here to begin our night out," she'd told him. "Only when I got here did Heidi decide to call me, to tell me that she couldn't make it. Which is when I tried to make my way to the exit, only to find myself accosted by an admirer." The way her lips had twisted in a grimace had told him loud and clear that said attentions had not been precisely welcome, and his stomach had twisted slightly. "He seemed nice at first, but then when I told him that I had to meet someone, he was quite unwilling to let me leave."

Those words, the way that she wasn't looking at him, had made every hair on the back of Speed's neck stand up straight, and he'd looked hard at her, reaching out and placing his hand over hers as he did so. "Did he hurt you?" he'd demanded, knowing that if this guy had placed as much as a finger on Calleigh that he'd make him pay.

She'd looked up at him then, shaking her head, a small smile on her face. She'd looked almost embarrassed when she'd said, "No Speed…he didn't hurt me." She'd looked down again then, the bar appearing most interesting as she continued. "I saw you over here, and made up some story about seeing my boyfriend and how I was supposed to be meeting him… I don't think he believed me though."

Speed had once more raised an eyebrow, shifting on his seat slightly so that he was closer to her, lifting her hand from the bar, enclosing it in both of his, doing his best, he hoped, to look as close to a loving boyfriend as it was possible to look. "He still here?"

Her eyes had darted over his shoulder, and she quickly pasted her smile back onto her face. "Um-hmm," she'd murmured, taking a step closer to him, letting her free hand rest on his shoulder. "You mean you're not going to leave me to deal with this on my own?"

She'd sounded hopeful, and for a second, the thought had struck him that Calleigh Duquesne was more than capable of dealing with the unwanted attentions of any man. After all, she was a fully trained police officer, and he happened to know that she'd taken self-defence classes too; she knew ways to hurt a man that he'd never even dreamed of. Still he'd thought, there was a world of difference between doing that when you were facing a criminal, and when you were just facing some guy in a bar. So he'd shrugged too, giving her a confident smirk. "I can play along for now," he'd told her, his voice laced with warning. "But you're going to owe me, big time."

Her voice had been dry when she'd replied, "How did I know you were going to say that?"

He hadn't answered, not directly, instead changing the subject to something innocuous, and he'd lost all track of time after that. It had only been when Calleigh's glass was all but empty, and she'd been taking small sips, that he'd realised for how long they'd been talking, and he'd tilted his head, frowning at her. "He still looking at you?"

She'd glanced over his shoulder, then turned her head, and he'd seen the frustration flare in her eyes, didn't even need to see her nod. "This is ridiculous," she'd muttered, and he'd been tempted to agree. "Time for drastic action," had been her next words, words that hadn't exactly filled him with joy.

"What-?" That was as far as he'd got before she'd taken a few steps away from him, her hand still holding his, and he'd known what she was planning. "Oh no," he'd objected, shaking his head. "I don't dance."

"Please?" Her eyes had been wide and innocent, her tone just the same as she'd stepped closer to him, running a finger up and down his shoulder. She didn't stop moving until she'd invaded his personal space, was close enough to him that he could smell the perfume she was wearing. "Come on Speed," she'd said, her lips beside his ear. "We dance, he sees us, he leaves, and we can all go home." She'd pulled back a little then, her face in front of his, their noses almost touching.

And against his will, he'd found himself weakening. "Just one dance?" he'd asked, noting that his voice sounded hoarse, blaming it on the exertions of talking over the music, and the smoke of the bar.

She hadn't said anything, just nodded, leading him out into the centre of the dance floor. Once there, she'd stepped as close to him as was publicly decent - and perhaps, he thought, just a little bit on the other side of it- and wrapped her arms around his neck, her head settling against his chest. His arms slipped around her waist, and he could feel the skin of her back, the heat of her, through her flimsy top, and he'd closed his eyes for a moment, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

Because it might all have been a pretext, might all have been contrived to get some guy to leave her alone, but he'd enjoyed the conversation, he'd enjoyed the way that she'd looked that night, the way that she'd looked at him, and he was damn sure enjoying the way that she felt in his arms.

When he opened his eyes, he'd' scanned the room as surreptitiously as possible, to see if the guy was still there, realising as he did so that he didn't actually know what he looked like. So he'd tapped Calleigh on the back lightly, and she'd looked up at him with eyes that were vaguely curious, but mostly content. "You see him?"

She'd blinked. "See who?"

"Mr Night-Vision-Goggles-stalker guy?" Speed had asked. "The whole reason I'm doing this knight in shining armour bit?"

He'd seen something flare in her eyes as he spoke, didn't pretend to understand what it was, but she looked around the room again, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Oh for goodness sake…"

"He's still there?" Speed attempted to turn, to see what this jerk looked like, but she'd stopped him, unwilling to let him do so. He'd given her a surprised look, and she'd shaken her head quickly.

"Don't look!"

"Don't look?" He'd been amazed, hadn't been shy about letting her know it either. "Calleigh, this guy has been bothering you all night. How do you suggest dealing with him?" Because at that stage he'd been open to suggestions, because it wasn't like anything else had worked with him.

She'd frowned slightly, and he'd almost been able to hear the wheels turning, and he'd waited patiently for her next master plan.

It was then that she'd uttered the words.

"Kiss me."

Speed quickly found out in the course of that kiss that if talking to her had been good, and dancing with her better, then kissing her was a little slice of Heaven, something that he wouldn't mind doing again and again, for the rest of his life if necessary. But when the kiss had ended, when he'd looked at her, he'd been reminded what they'd been doing there, why they'd been doing it, and he'd wondered if she could hear the sound of his heart breaking over the music of the band.

"Did it work?" he asked, and he just about managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She blinked rapidly, as if he was speaking a language she wasn't familiar with. Or maybe she'd been as knocked out by the kiss as he had. "Did what work?"

"Your stalker guy," Speed elaborated. "Is he still looking at you?"

Her confusion cleared then, he saw it leave, saw the smile that took its place, bright as a summer's day, warming him from the inside out. He knew what she was going to say before she said it, knew he should be angry with her for playing him, but he didn't care a bit.

"What guy?"

Her tone was teasing, but the way she was moving against him was anything but, driving any comments straight out of Speed's mind. So he did the only thing he could think of when he was holding a woman he was crazy about in his arms, a woman who was crazy enough to pull a stunt like this to get them here.

He kissed her again.

Back to C.S.I. Miami fic