I felt a little bad after the angst bomb of my last fic, so I wrote something on the lighter side for you. Got some cute banter, I think, and a lot of Camille and Kirstin BTOPing. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Stitchers. But I'm sure Daddy will buy it for me. *hair flip*

"Excuse me, everyone," Maggie projected from where she stood over the railing, "may I have your attention please?"

She held the eyes of everyone in the room, the queen surveying over her kingdom with unwavering fierceness.

"I'm pleased to tell you," her lips pecked at a smile, "that Detective Fisher has apprehended Mr. Lewis Moskowitz's killer."

The laboratory filled with the syncopation of applause and people cheering. The stitch had been extremely simple, but it was the first break any of them had received in a while. It called for celebration. Cameron and Linus reached across their monitors without moving their eyes and bumped their fists together. Camille pumped hers in the air and let out a gleeful 'whoop'. Kirsten didn't turn to face them, but her lips were stuck in a grin.

"We all did well today." Maggie continued from her perch, "I encourage everyone to take tonight to celebrate and rest up for tomorrow."

With the scout master's dismissal, people began to shut down their stations and dissolve out of the room. Kirsten hung back for a moment, finger nails mindlessly drumming into the arm of her chair. She was waiting for Linus and Cameron to finish talking. They would be finishing up soon, anyway. This morning Camille spent an extra four minutes in her bedroom, which means she was trying to find coordinating underwear, which means she is planning on having sex tonight. Today was Thursday. On Thursdays Fabrizio's serves all you can eat breadsticks. Camille loves breadsticks. And in three… two… one.

"Hola mi amigos!" Camille chirped, "Nice work today."

Cameron only shrugged in a modest sort of way while Linus flexed his minuscule muscles and kissed each bicep.

"So you guys heard the chief," she said with a devious lilt, "we should celebrate."

Before he could formulate a response, Camille sent Cameron a striking glare to inform him that he wasn't actually invited. Cameron nodded and put his hands above his head.

"I would love to," he said with mock guilt, "but I can't."

"Oh really?" Linus cocked his head to the side, "Why not?"

The heat in Camille's stare intensified. Cameron glanced nervously between the two of them.

"I was- uh," he stammered, "I was going to-"

Kirsten stepped in from behind them, "Accompany me to the Wilson Sisters' Drive In for the 8:30pm showing of Back to the Future."

The three colleges blinked at her with mouths slightly agape. Kirsten met their gazes with solid eyes and a quirked eyebrow.

"Great!" Camille was the first to recover from the shock, "So Linus, up for some Italian?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes still jumping from Kirsten to Cameron, "yeah Italian sounds fantastico!"

Camille glared at him dryly before slinging her messenger tote over her soldier and heading toward the elevator. Linus gave Cameron a "get some" shoulder pat and followed after her.

Once they were alone, Kirsten took a step closer- closer than they usually stood, Cameron noted. Her brown eyes were dark, hinting at something hidden beneath the surface. It made him nervous.

"So," his voice cracked.

"Wilson's is the third most popular drive-in in the L.A area." Kirsten said crossing her arms over her chest, "out of seven, I figure that's a low enough rating to attract a less numerous crowd but still high enough to not be disgusting."

Cameron grinned, "Good thinking, Holmes."

"Pick me up at 7:50." she wasn't fazed by the nickname, "Wear that blue button up, the dark one."

And with a wanton flick of her ponytail, Kirsten turned to leave, leaving Cameron with his ears ringing and palms sweaty.

"W-why?" he questioned, running a hand through his hair.

"You look good in it." she remarked without turning around.

Cameron didn't move for another minute until Ayo moved passed him to head home. He shook his head to jump start his thoughts and caught up with her before she went up.

"Hey, Ayo," he said gingerly, "how were Kirsten's stats during the stitch? Anything… unusual?"

Ayo raised an eyebrow, "No, why?"

Cameron cleared his throat, "No reason."

0o0o0o0o0

Camille got home around 7:00, laughing to herself in random spurts as she stepped through the door. Kirsten sat on the edge of the couch fidgeting with the hem of her pants. She hadn't been waiting very long, at least she hoped she hadn't. As soon as her roommate walked in, Kirsten sprung off the couch.

Camille jumped a little but her shoulders slacked and she smiled warmly.

"Ah hello, Roomie." she slurred, "I can't stay long. Just picking up the balloons. Almost forgot 'em. That would have been messy."

She side-stepped past Kirsten but the blonde only took a step back to block her path again.

"Balloons?" Kirsten questioned before shaking her head, "Never mind. I require your assistance."

Camille looked taken back, "You mean there's something in this world that I can do that you-"

"I said I required your assistance." Kirsten interjected flatly, "Calm down."

The brunette scowled and rocked back onto her heels, her brief moment of glee terminated. She followed her roommate to the back bedroom where four shirt and skirt combos were laid out on the mattress. Kirsten stood beside the bed and watch Camille with wide, expectant eyes. After she didn't say anything she gestured to the clothing.

"Well?" she insisted.

Camille just stared, "Oh my God."

"What?" Kirsten said straightening up.

"You want to look nice for your date with Cameron!" Camille practically squealed, "You like him!"

Pinching the bridged of her nose, Kirsten sighed, "Camille, I just need your advice so I look publicly acceptable. Don't read too much into this. What are you doing?"

"Texting Linus that I'm going to be a little later." her phone was inches from her face, "This definitely takes priority."

"I just want to know which outfit I should wear," Kirsten articulated carefully, but Camille had already disappeared down the hall.

Throwing her hands up, Kirsten followed her roommate into the opposite bedroom and was horrified to find her eagerly surveying her overcrowded vanity; picking off small compacts and brushes here and there.

"What are you doing?" Kirsten hissed but Camille waved her hands frantically and shushed her.

"When's your date?" she asked, dropping the contents of her arms onto the bed and retreating into the bathroom.

"He's picking me up at 7:50. And it's not a date."

"Like hell," she plugged a curling iron into the outlet by the bed.

"Camille this is completely unnecessary." Kirsten continued to protest as foundation was smeared across her face.

"What if he dresses up, huh? You don't want your boyfriend to look better than you. He may look as good or worse, but not better."

"He isn't my boyfriend and I already know what he's going to wear."

"Oh do you, now?" Camille hesitated before putting eyeshadow on her.

"I do." Kirsten sassed, "He's wearing the navy button up."

"Oh yes please."

"I know," Kirsten smirked proudly. "What is that?"

"Lip liner, now stop talking."

"Lip what?"

"Stop! You're going to smear it."

A loud ding made them both jump.

"Woo!" Camille clapped like an elementary school girl, "Curling iron is ready."

The device looked absolutely menacing in Camille's hands.

0o0o0o0o0

Kirsten never considered herself to be beautiful. She never considered herself to be anything. She was the abandoned girl with no past, and up until a few months ago, no future. Now, standing in front of Camille's full length mirror, hair draping over her painted face in lose curls that spiraled over a lavender dress, she did look beautiful. She felt beautiful.

Camille beamed beside her, obviously proud of her handy work. Hell, why shouldn't she be?

"Thank you for your help." Kirsten said almost bashfully.

Camille took it in stride, "You're welcome, Roomie."

She moved away from the mirror, but Kirsten stayed put. The longer she looked, the more scenarios she created of what could go wrong, why this was a bad idea.

"This is all probably just residual emotion." she admitted, her voice rimmed with disappointment.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Camille whirled around.

"All of this," Kirsten made a sweeping motion with her arms, "the movie, the makeup, the feelings. I can't use logic to explain them. It's probably because it's not really me."

Camille gawked, "Uh, Kirsten? You went into the mind of an asexual accountant who's only outside of work activity was NASCAR. How could this be residual emotion?"

Kirsten didn't say anything. She knew it didn't make any sense, but that had to have been the reason.

"I think," Camille said smiling, "you're going to have to face the terrible fact that you, Kirsten Clark, are capable of actual human emotion."

She brought her hands to the sides of her face and drew them out in an exploding motion before scurrying out of the room. Kirsten chuckled. Could it be? Logically, it didn't make sense for these kinds of feelings to be coming from Lewis Moskowitz's memories, but it made even less sense for them to be her own. Didn't it?

Why did she care what shirt Cameron was wearing, or how his hair looked from day to day? Why did she secretly hope the elevator doors would open one morning and he'd be wearing those goofy glasses? Why did her chest feel tight every time he talked about Marta? Why did her hands want to touch him every time that awful sadness reached his eyes and why did she stop them?

She couldn't explain. She simply knew they were real, a part of her, even if she hid them from the entire world. That was all she had ever done. She hid behind a cold face and a hard, calculating mind.

The door belled chimes through the hall.

She wasn't hiding anymore.

*falls and tumbles into a ball of cuteness*

I'm just very happy. I hope you're all happy. If you aren't, screw that negativity. You don't need it. Go treat yourself. Anyway, thank you so much for reading. Please be sure to fav or comment if you would be so kind and I will see you next time. :D