waverlywindsor | Ready Or Not, Here I Come [for Mark Kosik]

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Ready Or Not, Here I Come [for Mark Kosik]

As promised, Waverly called Mark prior to boarding her plane to NYC, verifying that he would be there to pick her up. Once more she gave him her flight information, the airline and the terminal. She also told him to meet her at baggage claim since airport security made it impossible to meet people at the arrival gate these days. To ease her list of dos and don’ts into something more affable and sweet, Waverly also promised the man that if he could spot her before she found him, she’d give him that kiss he kept asking after.

The flight was relatively short, only a couple of hours and part of that was simply because they needed to navigate around a weather system, and by the time they were preparing to land, Waverly was feeling a little anxious. Being on pins and needles, fidgeting and fighting the urge to dig her nails into her armrests had nothing to do with the plane’s decent into Laguardia’s runway field—even if it was a little turbulent. No, she was nervous about meeting Mark in person.

Would he be as charming as he seemed online and over the phone? Would she still feel that personality click? Would he find her attractive? That last made her laugh quietly to herself. If the man found her winsome with her hair a tumbled mess and while wearing a baggy sweater and jeans that are more comfortable than fashionable, she might actually have to fall in love. She smirked then, the dancer taking her wardrobe choice into consideration for the first time. If he liked what he saw when she got off the plane, she was sure to blow his mind when he got a look at her all dolled up for an evening out. Travel wear seemed to suddenly have more than one purpose.

Waverly eventually disembarked and made her way through the airport she was passing familiar with, heading in the right direction and looking assured while she did it. Baggage. Not that she had much more than her carry-on with her but there was a garment bag and a small wheeled-suitcase that she needed to fetch. Of course, there was also a cop she needed to spot before she ended up having to kiss him right there for the first time. In public.

Now where would he be…?

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Neither Rick Gabriel nor Lee Valdyich balked at Mark’s request that morning to disappear with the ‘company car’ for a couple of hours and leave them at the mercy of the motor pool’s meager afternoon offerings. Rick had been briefed on Waverly, the impending date, and was ecstatic that Mark had even met someone. Someone who; granted; lived a few states away, but no one was perfect and with Mark’s potential recall to active duty there was always the chance that Mark would be leaving New York anyway.

Following instructions to the letter Mark arrived at the appropriate baggage claim, a good twenty minutes before Waverly’s plane was even scheduled to land. From all indicators from the arrival boards and internet, he was able to determine just how long of a delay he would be facing, or if the flight would be on time. He had a chilled bottle of water sticking out of the right front pocket of his leather coat, the charcoal gray slacks, black shirt and gray and black stripped tie finishing out the ensemble. He had quickly befriended and enlisted the help of three air port security guards to help him identify Waverly. The surveillance net had done it’s job well and Mark couldn’t help but smirk as he walked up behind the woman searching the baggage claim area for him.

He was allowed in restricted areas so it had been easy to create an ideal vantage point and remain hidden from plain sight in the process. All those years in the military utilizing the skills of stealth and invisibility to gather Intel were invaluable in his present situation. He wanted that kiss on the cheek damn it and Waverly owed him fair and square. Mark cleared his throat and used his ‘official’ authoritative voice to ask, “You look a little lost, Miss. Can I be of some assistance?”

"No, thank you. I think I have it covered here..." She answered automatically, not turning to look at the person she was speaking to, determined as she was to spot Mark first. Where in the world was--

Waverly stiffened slightly, her shoulders squaring and her back going ramrod straight for an instant as the sound of his voice registered. It was far more stern and authoritative than what she was used to over the phone but as she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the dancer realized who the man was. Mark was standing right behind her. All she had to do was turn around.

Her head fell forward and her hair masked a slight smile as the brunette gathered herself. It only took a heartbeat or two. Pivoting around and looking up, Waverly found herself looking into Mark's eyes for the first time. "I'm not lost, Detective but I think I've been found."

As she let her eyes drift over his face and down to take in his outfit, nice tie, Waverly's smile deepened a bit and her cheeks colored only slightly. "I also think I owe you a kiss, don't I?"

Mark couldn’t help but smile, at first it was the obviousness of her surrender; her admitting defeat in their competition for dominance; but when she turned around the smile he had meant so much more. She was beautiful; her hair jostled from travel, her face clear of make up, her eyes bright, her lips revealing a smile of their own. And for a minute; just a slight pause; Mark lost the ability to talk. However Waverly was speaking so he reined in his attention and he arched an eyebrow of victory.

He took the water bottle out of his pocket and held it up. “Before you do, you might want a sip of this.” If she didn’t kiss him, he could forgive her that. He felt the back of his neck warm a bit, and wondered if the blush was creeping up his ears and into his cheeks. It wasn’t like he was expecting her to claim his mouth in a passionate flurry of tongues and moisture. A kiss on the cheek would suffice; for now. There was always the end of their date to anticipate something less chaste.

Mark swallowed. - - Easy Kosik. Fuck up now and it’s going to be one long week of torture from Rick.--

She took the water bottle and unscrewed the cap, palming it in her left hand as she continued to hold the bottle in her right. The way he smiled at her made her mouth go dry and her face definitely felt warmer. Direct attention like this wasn't something she'd had in a while, unless you wanted to count a couple dozen dance students all under the age of twelve. Waverly certainly didn't. Kids didn't silently weigh and measure you the way she knew Mark was somehow evaluating her as they stood inches apart. She hopes she fared well on whatever personal scale the cop was using.

Lifting the bottle in a one-sided toast and murmuring a quiet 'thanks', Waverly took a sip and then a longer pull from the bottle, lips forming a perfect and firm-fitting 'o' around the lip. Realizing that he was still watching her and how her actions could possibly be taken, she lowered the bottle again and capped it. Then she ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip to catch a bead of cool water. "You're going to have to move closer a bit."

When he did, Waverly smirked and placed a hand on his chest for balance as she popped up on her toes to bring her lips level with Mark's ear. She liked the warmth she felt as her cheek brushed the side of his face. Her voice low, soft and barely more than a whispered breath, she offered, "It's nice to meet you."

She continued to smile as she lowered herself again, turning her head slightly and pressing a kiss to his face--catching the corner of his mouth with the corner of her own. Firm, chaste and maybe just longer than need be, she ended the kiss then took a step back. Her brief attempt at flirtation over, Waverly cheerfully looked back at the baggage carousel. "I only have a small bag, it's grey and there's a green ribbon on the handle and my garment bag."

She was pretending that she hadn't liked that kiss as much as she did.

When her lips went around the bottle mouth the part of Mark’s brain that forever hovered at ten years old, seized urging his sexual attraction to Waverly to spike. However, the red that warmed his neck merely rose in his ears and then, she wasn’t drinking.

He could feel the warmth of her hand through the tie, through the shirt as if she were touching his bare skin instead. Her voice was like velvet; electric pulses shot down his spine and warmed his gut. Her lips on the corner of his mouth, Mark remained somewhat rigid in non-movement, to ensure that she had complete control of this exchange. It was somehow important to let her know that when it came to physical advances he would be respectful of her, but he would still make overtures.

His eyes watched her, absorbing every move, visually holding her in an embrace that was yet to come. He wet his lips with a lazy push of his tongue tip and smirked as she directed him to the baggage carousel. “Why yes’m.” He answered tipping an imaginary hat. “I’ll’s fetch ‘em straight away like.” He winked at her then moved to the carousel, making a place for himself in the milling crowd. He helped a young mother and her child by pulling their bags off for them, before retrieving Waverly’s.

“Sorry.” He apologized softly of the delay. “I couldn’t let the little girl leave without her Disney princess tote.” He had Waverly’s garment bag at his right shoulder, fingers curled around the hanger, and he carried her other luggage piece in his left. He didn’t require the use of the wheels for now; and merely held it. “Ready?”

She laughed at his antics and then was genuinely charmed as she watched him with the little girl. Waverly had a feeling he'd have helped the mother and child even without her there as an audience. "I can take that." Waverly was gesturing at the suitcase, her purse and carry-on already slung over one shoulder and the water bottle now tucked into the carry-on's side pocket. "You don't have to act like my personal bell hop."

It was nice to have someone try to do things for her, whether or not she'd let him continue was another story. "I really do appreciate you coming out here to get me. I hate dealing with cabs."

“No, I insist on carrying it for you.” Mark informed her tightening his grip on the handle and pulling the small-ish suitcase closer to him as if she were attempting to take it from him. “What kind of chauffeur would I be if I shirked the most basic of my duties?”

His smile was warm, his features loosing about ten years as he dodged a few people while managing to stay beside Waverly. He nodded at one of the enlisted security guards and the larger man waved in return. “I wouldn’t have offered to pick you up if I minded. I would have never forgiven myself if you had arrived in town only to be abducted by some rouge cab driver you dislike depending on.”

Mark lead them through the terminal and out into the cold air. He nodded in the direction of the parked, black Ford, Crown Victoria parked in the fire lane. He set Waverly’s bag down on the curb and fished in his pocket for the keys. Opening the back door he put her luggage inside and then draped her garment bag over the seat, hooking it on the back frame of the rear window. He held out a hand in indication of her shoulder bags, “Anything else you want in the back?”

She handed over the carry-on bag, the compact leather case weighing far more than the contents of her suitcase. Waverly was happy to be relieved of the burden and she rubbed her shoulder absently to prove it.

"So this is the car I told your Dean guy that we wouldn't be having sex in, huh?" The dancer laughed and ran her hand along the roof of the car, the cold metal making her wish she'd put her gloves on as they'd come outside. "Nice. Did you really make someone else wash and detail it?"

She was curious and amused that he would even consider going to such lengths. Waverly was also admiring far more than the car, the cop that went with it was definitely of more interest.

Mark didn’t expect the carry on to weigh as much as it did, but he was quick to recover and hoped he hadn’t made Waverly nervous with the sudden dip he made with her case. Case rested in place on the floor, he closed the door and opened the passenger door for Waverly.

“I wouldn’t use a work vehicle for sex, or any vehicle for that matter; unless of course it was desperate times calling for desperate measures.” He smirked holding the door open for her and noting that he would have to slap Dean later. Waverly was not a teenage girl, and there were plenty of high class places he could take her for intimate relations, should she so choose to grant him that favor.

“And yeah, they wash the cars every day, I just had them vacuum out it out a little. There’s nothing you can do about the scent o’cop I’m afraid though.”

"Ew. Icky." She joked as she folded herself into the front seat of the car, habit making her reach for and fasten her seat belt. While this wasn't the standard black and white police car, it was still a vehicle used for police work and Waverly was therefore fascinated. She'd never had so much as a speeding ticket so being inside of a cop car was something of a novelty for her.

She tried not to look too nosy as she let her gaze wander the dashboard, the radio...where was that light up globe that they slapped on the dash or the roof in movies? He had to have one...

Waverly told herself to grow up and not say anything stupid but oh, the temptation was there. Instead, she occupied herself with trying to finger comb her messy hair and use the rear view mirror to verify that she didn't look like too much of a disaster.

Mark closed the door and made his way quickly around the front of the car to the driver’s side. He held out a hand to stop a cab as he pulled the door open and ducked inside. The cab sped past and Mark glanced from out of the windshield to Waverly. “Guess that would be one of the cabbies you dislike then, huh?” He put the key in the ignition and the Ford purred to life.

Mark pulled out into traffic and when it was safe to glance away for a minute he looked at Waverly. “It’s down by your left foot. The console opens up and the bubble’s in there.” He recalled she had asked about it in a previous conversation, and he figured there was no time like the present to allow her to examine it. Mark returned back to navigating the lanes of traffic all being herded towards the express way.

“So where, Waverly; am I taking you now?”

She laughed as he mentioned the bubble and its location. Waverly did bend over and fumble with the console until she got it open, taking the bubble out and sitting with it in her lap. Looking over at Mark, she fixed him with a sunny smile, "Probably right smack into some hideous Manhattan traffic."

Her expression turned apologetic as she rattled off the name and address of her hotel, one of the nicer parts of midtown and a decent place to lodge. "Traffic is one thing I do not miss about this city."

The bubble called to her and held her attention as she turned it over in her hands, shook it and tapped on the domed cover. "This is pretty cool. I won't lie, I'd never get any real work done, I would sit here and play with the pretty light all day."

Mark smirked and slid his eyes from the traffic to Waverly once more. "The can be pretty, but they always mean trouble for someone." He reached out and used a finger to nudge the switch that turned the bubble on and off. The red light immediately went around, filling the cab of the car with a red glow. "Stick it on the dash and feel free to stare. It'll help us maneuver a little faster through traffic." He considered turning on the siren but for now left it off. "I like gadgets too. Give me some military toys and set me loose and I'll blow up half the world for you gleefully."

He contemplated where Waverly was staying and the fastest way to get there. Then he mapped an alternate route that would take them longer. Waverly didn't seem in a hurry and if she became overly tired and wanted to lie down, there was always the siren to bring them to their destination faster.

"I don't really require any part of the globe going boom, but it's sweet of you to offer." She made the comment lightly, as if he were proposing an offer of help for something mundane like rearranging deck furniture. It was likely an indicator that she wasn't taking him too seriously, she was sure he liked gadget and even 'boy toys' that could blow things up. Waverly just didn't think he'd really take pleasure in massive destruction.

Besides, she was playing with the red light in her hands, watching as the pulsing flash moved under her fingers and lit them from below. It reminded her of playing with a flashlight as a kid and getting a good look at muscles and tendons, the bones in her hand. Eventually, the novelty wore off and she sat the light on the dash, keeping her hand against it until she realized the weighted base wasn't going to fall.

"Do you do that a lot? Use the light when you really don't need to?"

Mark laughed. He had enjoyed watching her play with the bubble light, taking pleasure in the simple joy of seeing her smile and have fun. He hoped he could bring more smiles to her face; however they would come.

"No. . .Well, sometimes. We have, but usually? No. We just use it when it's necessary." Mark grinned. "Or to impress a pretty girl from Maine." He glanced from the traffic to her profile. "Incidentally, you're not in any kind of hurry to get to your hotel are you? Traffic is going to take us a while to work through."

"You're lucky Maine girls are pretty easy to impress." She tapped the bubble again and then sat back, looking out the window now and again as familiar parts of the city went by. "I'm not really in a rush. I just don't want to ruin your whole afternoon if you had plans, you are doing me a huge favor after all."

Waverly ran her fingers through her hair, an absent-minded gesture whenever her hair was loose instead of pulled into a tight bun. Glancing at Mark again, she fixed him with another smile. "You know, it would have been shorter if you'd gone through Tribeca..."

She had noticed his meandering detour, not that she minded, it was amusing and maybe even sweet.

"Somehow, I think that girls from Maine have pretty high standards. Everyone likes flashing lights, so that's hardly an indicator of how simple or not it is to impress someone from Maine." Mark's smile deepened. "And it's not a favor. I wanted to see you, so picking you up at the airport was not an imposition in the least."

He watched her movements out of the corner of his eye, wishing he could run his fingers through it as well. Perhaps he'd have the opportunity later, she might permit him that intimate act; and more besides. Mark arched an eye brow at her comment, amused that she wouldn't let the ploy unfold unmentioned. Of course she noticed; he was hardly trying not to be transparent, but still; at least she wasn't annoyed by the act.

"True, but this way. . .We spend a few more minutes together before I have to get back to work." Work...a place he dreaded due to his duties, not because Rick would pounce on him the moment he walked through the door demanding to know how everything went.

Waverly reached over and gave his knee a light pat, "Even if it's not imposing, you are making my life easier and so you have to let me say thank you. Really. I mean, you were going to get to see me anyway and this is making you miss a few hours of work."

It might be a little thing, but those were what Waverly appreciated more than any grand gestures. In the long run, they meant more.

"As for high standards, I might have a few, but only where it matters. Being easily amused and liking blinky pretties is more or less low on the totem pole." Her requirements for entertainment were fairly low but the woman most definitely appreciated perfection, quality and depth in most other areas of her life.

Mark's ears warmed a little at the touch of her hand on his knee. Oh yeah, he was that hard up. Inwardly Mark cringed at this thought, his flesh smoldering warmly with the phantom sensation of Waverly's fingers. He didn't grant himself the luxury of dwelling on the touch; that would be treading too close to a dangerous line. "Hours I can easily make up, please. It's hardly a sacrifice." Mark smiled at her.

"There's nothing wrong with high standards. I have them myself. It'll be interesting to compare lists at dinner." He shrugged his right shoulder and leaned his head in that direction towards Waverly. "Do you have any plans tonight? Or are you just going to settle in and relax before the stampede of your friends? And our date tomorrow night?"

She actually let herself go a bit limp in her seat at the thought of relaxing for the evening. "I think I'm being dragged to some function at the ABT, which is going to be a little like hell on earth since everyone will do that whole mock sympathy, 'we're so sorry you aren't dancing here anymore but deep down it's nice to not have the competition and thank God it wasn't my leg that gave out' thing that they do so well and I'll have to thank them and act like I'm touched when really all I am thinking is that they can go get stuffed."

After a brief silence and realizing how she must have sounded, Waverly laughed a bit and shook her head. "I'd much rather take a long, hot bath and then take advantage of the big fluffy bathrobe waiting for me and the three hundred cable channels, room service and bed."

Mark considered her situation and looked at her, "Want my advice?" He turned his gaze back out the windshield. "Given the choice between enduring the harsh judgement of your previous peers and a hot bath? I would tell my friends you're a little congested from the flight. And to make certain it doesn't turn into a cold and ruin your time in New York with them, you're going to stay in the hotel. Then have the front desk take messages for you, order room service, then take that bath you're craving. I know you were a part of that world for so long and it meant something; I get that, I do. But why the hell would you want to put yourself in a situation where they turn up their noses and lie to your face?"

She gave him an overly kind look, the sort usually reserved for a particularly slow child and shook her head. "Oh, that's just the way things are there. Everyone does it to everyone else. I was the same way, that's how I know what they really think. Brutal world. Vicious. The phrase "eat their own" really applies to professional dance."

And yet, he was giving her a valid excuse and it was tempting. "I thought cops were supposed to uphold the law and be honest, good guys. Are you actually encouraging me to lie and deceive and entire group of people?" She was joking, mostly, smiling too. "And you know, if the front desk is taking messages, you can't call me either." Waverly closed her eyes and made a pleased sound in the back of her throat, "But oh, bubble bath...temptation is a horrible thing, isn't it?"

"Okay, so go get eaten." Mark chuckled raising his right hand off the steering wheel in surrender. "I was only trying to help." He placed his hand back down and glanced at her. "I'm perfectly capable of leaving a message with the rest of your friends, but given what is facing you tonight, I'm thinking I should just keep mum until tomorrow."

Mark shook his head. "Homicide detectives deal in deception every day. You learn how to lie, and well to get anywhere in a case. Job hazard, but I'm telling you the truth right now- take the bath and steer clear of that feeding frenzy tonight."

"Mmm, maybe." She still had her eyes closed and was doing a fair job of relaxing right then and there. The thought that he had just admitted to being a professional liar did cross her mind, but she chose to ignore it. Anyone that was encouraging her to indulge in hedonistic pleasure and also volunteering to not bother her while she did it deserved to be cut some slack.

She was wilting a bit and Mark took a short cut through an alley, slowing to avoid hitting anything that would jar the car or cause damage. He merged into the street at the other end, going down two blocks before using the same tactic again. As much as he was enjoying his time with Waverly, perhaps she would have the opportunity to have that bath before sharpening her fangs to attend her other engagement.

He tensed a little, slowing even further as homeless man raised a fist, realized it was a cop car then hurriedly moved behind a dumpster and out of the way. More than identifying the car had cowed the man, Mark's stare was enough to make the man dive for cover. Stopping at the mouth of the alley, he had to wait a couple of seconds to merge into traffic again, a cab driver trying to dart past but not quite making it. It was just a few more blocks until they reached the hotel and Mark was disappointed that in less than an hour Rick would be sitting where Waverly sat, and Lee in the back seat absorbing their conversation like the third wheel that he was.

Waverly's idea of a bath and room service was abruptly appealing enough to physically hurt.

When the car came to a slow and then stopped in front of the hotel, Waverly opened her eyes and smiled. "Home sweet home." At least for the week. She also turned in her seat after releasing her safety belt, "If you do decide to call, I'm listed under Josephine Greg. That's the J in my name."

She didn't bother to tell him why the false name, she had her reasons for not wanting to be easily tracked down or bothered and the name was one she frequently used when privacy was desired. She normally kept it to herself but she didn't want him to try reaching her only to be told that she wasn't staying at the hotel. "And I think you might have to open the back door because the bell hop is looking a little scared of the cop car."

Possibly because the bubble was still sitting on the dash.

"A pseudonym. I like it. Very classy." Mark got out of the car and moved around the truck to the back door behind the passenger side. First he opened Waverly's door and then motioned to the bell hop. When he reached Mark, Mark handed him the carry on case to shoulder first. "You take good care of this little lady. If I hear you even so much as set a foot wrong, I'll be back to pay you a visit. Understand?"

The bell hop nervously vowed that he comprehended perfectly as Mark loaded him with everything but Waverly's purse. That he handed to her, dismissing the bell hop by turning his back to the man. Mark leaned down and kissed Waverly's left cheek.

"Have a good bath, and tear the other dancers to shreds." The finger tips of his left hand pushed a bit of her hair back, indulging just for a split second before he pulled his hand away. "I'll call you tomorrow morning. But not too early."

Waverly blushed a bit, looking down at the ground while she collected herself and put her purse strap over her shoulder. "You didn't have to scare the poor man, I'm sure he'll do his job." Still, it struck her as sweet if a bit overprotective of Mark to make such overtures. "I hope you have a good afternoon at work."

She gave him a smile and then with a bouncing step, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you again, for the ride, for the advice and for letting me bathe in peace tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The woman gave his hand a light squeeze then turned to follow the doorman into the building.

Mark found himself smiling at the sensation of the kiss, his cheek warm; his stomach not far behind. He muttered a quick acknowledgment and then Waverly was gone.

Happy, Mark knew he would be able to speak to her the next morning and that evening would be their date. He was looking entirely forward to it.

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Ready Or Not, Here I Come [for Mark Kosik]

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