Hey there folks, this is my first CSI:NY fic although I've been a fan for a while now. I just thought it would be nice to see what they were like back when they first met. They might seem a little OOC but that's because they would have been different people back then. I think Mac, although much happier in his life in general because of Claire was proabably a bit of a pain in the ass to work with at first. Apologies for anything I get wrong (I've seen series 1, 2 and am currently watching 5 so apologies if there's something wrong I should have known about). Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always extremely welcome :D

Disclaimer: if I owned it I wouldn't be posting here.

The Beginning of Mac and Stella.

Of all the people that she could have been partnered with, of all the cops and scientists in the crime lab, of all the people in New York, it had to be him. Mac Taylor; the sternest, most unemotional, most by-the-book pain in the ass she had ever met. And stubborn, so incredibly stubborn it was not to be believed.

The word around the lab was that he had been a marine but the only evidence she could find was the lapel pin which graced every suit he ever wore. Heck, the only reason she knew he was married was because of the ring on his left hand! He was so closed-off, so up-tight, she felt as though she were constantly suffocating in his presence.

Right from the first she'd disliked him with his sharp jaw and his sharp eyes and his ties knotted right up to the top. She didn't like the way he raised his eyebrows or the tone of his voice with its odd accent that seemed to be part Chicago, part New York. She disliked his patronising smile or the way he pulled her up on things, reminding her that she was with the lab now and that they did things differently from Vice.

She knew she wasn't exactly his favourite person either, had known from their first meeting when he had looked her up and down with that slow, calculating glance and arched one dark brow at the chief. She knew what he had been thinking; what am I supposed to do with this skinny little thing? But she had resisted the urge to fight him, her record spoke for itself, she didn't need to prove herself to Mac Taylor of all people.

That wasn't to deny the fact that he was good at his job, he was, very good in fact. Sometimes they'd be hip deep in an investigation with no end in sight and then suddenly, with no warning, he'd have it and they'd be flying. Those were the few times when she could bring herself not to hate him completely.

There was one time when they'd been out on a collar with a couple of they guys from homicide and the damn perp they were after decided to do a runner across some rooftops, occasionally stopping to shoot at them. While everyone was running after the guy and yelling for backup she had suddenly become aware that Mac was nowhere to be seen; that was until he appeared behind the perp in front of her and disarmed him with a motion she could swear she had seen in a Rambo movie. Right then she had to admit that he had his uses. But most of the time Stella Bonasera and Mac Taylor were like oil and water, completely incompatible.

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They were sat opposite each other in the break room, drinking coffee in silence while they filled out paperwork when a sharp ringing broke the quiet. It was Mac's phone and he answered it without taking his eyes from the pink form in front of him, which had to be filled out in triplicate.

"Taylor," he said gruffly. Stella often wondered why people bothered to continue the conversation after a greeting like that.

But her partner had suddenly gone tense and laid down the pen he had been using. He cast a cursory glance at Stella before turning away slightly.

"I'm a little busy right now."

His tone was softer than his usual one and Stella recognised it as his "talking to the wife" voice. She directed her attention back to her paperwork. She considered leaving him in peace out of politeness but decided against it. If it was that private he could leave, she was busy.

Ordinarily she would have simply tuned out the conversation but just then Mac said something which peaked her interest.

"Yes, she's here. Why…" but he didn't finish.

Stella risked a glance back up at him and saw that he was frowning.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea," he said, his earlier gruffness returning.

"Just because, that's why."

He rubbed his forehead absentmindedly, Stella now watching him openly.

"Claire." It was his warning voice now and Stella could faintly here the woman on the other end of the line responding with equal forcefulness.

He sighed in resignation.

"Fine, I'll ask her."

Removing the phone from the side of his face he turned to her with a look of exasperation.

"My wife wants to know if you'd have dinner with us tonight?"

Stella blinked, that was certainly not what she had been expecting. What should she say? Mac was looking at her, still with that exasperated look on his face. She was pretty sure he didn't want her to accept the invitation. Should she accept just to annoy him? No, that was childish, besides she wasn't sure if she could stand his company for the whole evening.

"Um… that's real kind of your wife but…" she left the end of sentence hanging.

"You have plans," he finished for her, almost too quickly. "That's fine."

The phone was pressed to his ear again.

"She says she's busy." A pause. "Yes, of course I asked her." Another pause. "Claire, just… ugh, fine!"

Much to her surprise he held out the phone towards her.

"My wife would like to speak to you," he muttered gruffly.

Stella stared at the cell-phone as though it might bite her and then tentatively reached out and snagged it from his fingers, bringing it to her own ear.

"Um, hello?"

"Stella Bonasera?" asked a voice at the other end, a bright, cheerful voice.

"Yes."

"Claire Taylor here. Listen, I know my husband can be a little on the grouchy side but just ignore him. It really would mean a lot to me if you came to dinner tonight. Quite apart from anything else I've got too much pasta here just for the two of us. Are you sure you can't come?"

Again Stella wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't help warming to the voice on the other end of the phone but at the same the husband of that voice was watching her form across the table and seemed less than happy about the idea of dining with her.

"Please?" cajoled the voice on the phone.

To hell with it.

"Well, I guess I could come to dinner."

"Wonderful!"

She could swear Mac was grinding his teeth.

"I'll see you tonight then. Be so kind as to put my dreamboat of a husband back on the line will you?"

"Uh, sure. Bye."

She handed the phone back to Mac who clamped the plastic to his ear almost ferociously.

"Yeh?... Yeh, okay, we'll see you then… Yeh, you too. Bye."

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned immediately back to his paperwork while Stella chewed the end of her pen and began to wonder exactly what she's gotten herself into.

By the time it was time for them to leave the lab she was regretting her decision to go and was frantically trying to think of a way out of the whole thing.

By comparison Mac was in a relatively good mood, another case closed and all the reports written up and the evidence docketed and packed away. Thr guy was practically animated. Only as he rose to pull on his suit jacket and his gaze fell on his partner did his face fall slightly.

Stella noticed and pretended to search through her purse for something.

"Well?" A voice interrupted her.

Mac was staring at her with that questioning look of his.

"Well what?"

"Are you coming?"

He gestured to the door and Stella bit her lip.

"Oh, uh, yeh. I guess so."

"Let's go then."

He held the door open for her as she stood and gathered her things, letting her walk past him into the hallway before striding off towards the parking lot.

They walked along in silence until they reached his truck and he held the door open for her.

"Thanks," she murmured, wondering if Mac had always been such a gentleman and she had just been too busy looking at his faults to notice it.

Their drive was quiet but Stella didn't mind. She was too jittery to talk very much and she kept twisting her hands in her lap. Before she was quite aware of where she was the truck pulled up and Mac killed the engine.

It was one of those old brownstones like the one in Breakfast at Tiffany's. The kind of place Stella had always wanted to live but could never quite afford. Trust Mac Taylor to be living in her dream apartment.

Again he opened the door for her, checking the little letter box below the bell and pulling out a couple of flyers which he pretended to scrutinize as they climbed the stairs. The Taylors' place was on the third floor and he unlocked the door and stood back, letting Stella past him.

"That you honey?" called a voice from somewhere inside.

"You expecting someone else?" he called back just as a head appeared from a doorway.

It was a small, blonde head, the hair short and pixyish, the eyes blue and clear and the mouth wide and smiling. That head was attached to a body which now materialised in the hallway; a slim, strong body dressed in black suit pants and a cream sweater with a silver chain at the neck.

"Just you good lookin'" she teased, stepping forward to kiss her husband on the corner of his mouth.

Mac began to smile and then remembered their guest and nodded in her direction.

"This is Stella," he said a little bluntly.

"Claire Taylor," said the woman, coming forward with an outstretched hand which Stella shook.

"Stella Bonasera."

"It's so good to finally meet you," declared Mrs Taylor. "I've been bugging Mac for months to bring you home but he always refuses, so I thought it was about time I took matters into my own hands."

Mac snorted slightly in the background but Claire merely rolled her eyes and grinned at Stella.

"Ignore him, he's just an old grouch. Now why don't you come and sit down. Here, let me take you coat."

Relieved of her coat Stella was ushered into the small but tasteful living room while Claire disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Here we go," she said, filling one glass and handing it to Stella before ensconcing herself at one end of the big comfy sofa and motioning for Stella to do the same.

"Now, I'm just dying to here all the awful stories you must have."

"Must I?" queried Stella, eyeing Mac who was stood in the doorway, watching her carefully.

Claire laughed.

"Of course you must, I certainly do."

She followed the line of Stella's eyes and shooed her husband with her hand.

"Go and take a shower or something will you and let us mock you in peace."

Mac merely sighed.

"Fine, I suppose if I'm going to be vilified I'd rather not hear it."

And with that he disappeared in the direction of what Stella assumed must be the bathroom. Both women watched him go but with very different expressions.

When Stella turned back to her hostess she realised the woman was still looking after her husband.

"He's a complete and utter pain in the ass," she sighed and looked back at Stella. "And I absolutely adore him."
Stella sipped her wine and stared into the glass.

"You don't like him much do you?"

Her head whipped back up and she tried not to blush.

"No!" she replied in horror. "I mean it's not that I don't like him, I mean… well, it's just that…"

She was babbling and she could feel her face getting redder as she did so. Great, she came to this woman's home and the first thing she did was practically admit to hating her husband, good one Stella.

But Claire laughed and patted Stella lightly on the knee.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "Mac isn't an easy person to like. He's always been a little on the gruff side. I think it kind of rubbed off on him in the army."

"He was a marine then?" asked Stella. If nothing else maybe she could finally get an answer to some of the questions floating around the lab.

"Oh God yes, career soldier. He was in the corps for…" she seemed to be counting in her head, "almost twenty years I think. I'm not sure really, he joined before I knew him, he was already a lieutenant by then."

Stella's eyes grew wide.

"Mac was a lieutenant?"

"Yup."

Claire nodded over Stella's shoulder and she turned to see a couple of pictures on the sideboard. One was clearly Mac and Claire on their wedding day and another was of Mac in dress uniform which Stella had to admit suited him.

"He's been all over the world, at least he's been in army bases all over the world which I guess isn't really the same thing."

Stella shook her head in disbelief. The orphanage where she'd spent most of her childhood had been big on traditional respect for the military and a lot of the guys she had grown up there with had joined up. They said it gave them a sense of belonging they never really got at foster homes.

"Why did he leave?" she asked after a minute.

Claire shrugged a little.

"We'd been married a few years and he just decided it was no life for me living on a base with him gone for months at a time. I don't know that he'd have left if he hadn't been guaranteed a job with the NYPD. It was the closest thing he could find to being a soldier."

Stella frowned slightly.

"But you can't see much more of him now than you did then," she said and Claire chuckled a little.

"After all that time he spent abroad? Trust me, even if he worked double shifts and overtime every day of the week I'd still see more of him now than I used to. I guess I just got used to him not being around for long periods of time. When we moved here and he started with the PD it was a novelty to have him come home every day even if it was just for a couple of hours. Besides, Mac was never going to be a stay at home husband and, if I'm being honest, I don't think I could stand to have him around all the time, he'd drive me crazy inside of a fortnight."

Stella couldn't help laughing then. She liked Claire Taylor a lot.

"So what about you?" she asked when she had stopped laughing. "What do you do?"

"Me?"

Claire made a face.

"I'm a realtor, not interesting in any way. But what about you, Mac never tells me anything and I'm dying to know everything."

So Stella told her about being an orphan and growing up in the system. Unlike most people Claire didn't automatically apologise for having asked in the first place but seemed interested in what it had been like for her. She told her about college and joining the NYPD and about moving from Vice to the Crime Lab.

She paused when she got there but Claire urged her on so she talked a little about Mac and how he made her uneasy, although, sitting here in his apartment, drinking wine with his wife she was beginning to wonder if she hadn't gotten him all wrong.

She was just relating her side of that afternoon's phone conversation when the man himself appeared once more at the living room door. He had changed out of his suit and now wore a pair of faded jeans and a black tee-shirt. His cropped hair was still damp from the shower and he was barefoot.

Stella couldn't help thinking that he looked different, more relaxed, happy even.

"Are the two of you going to finish that bottle by yourselves or would you like a little help?" he enquired.

"You can finish mine," said Claire, standing up. "I have to check on dinner."

She flashed Stella a bright smile as she stood and brushed past her husband, handing him her half empty glass as she did so.

Mac grinned after her before turning back to the living room. He moved to the coffee table and poured some more wine into his glass.

As he did so Stella became aware that she was sitting with her shoes off and her bare feet curled up on his couch. If he had an opinion on the matter he didn't voice it but just perched on the arm at the opposite end.

"You look weird without your suit," she said, breaking the silence between them.

He raised a quizzical brow at her.

"Weird good or weird bad?"

"Weird different. I don't know if that comes under good or bad."

"Let me know when you decide."

They fell into silence again but it didn't last long as Claire appeared in the doorway once more and announced that dinner was ready.

Dinner was mountains of pasta and meatballs and a huge dish of salad which included olives and cheese, followed by a divine strawberry cheesecake of which both Claire and Stella had two helpings while Mac merely shook his head.

"Just don't complain to me the next time you think you're putting on weight," he joked.

Claire merely stuck her tongue out at him.

"That goes for you too Bonasera," he added and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"What?" she squeaked around a mouthful of cheesecake.

"The walls in the evidence room are glass," he reminded her. "Don't think I haven't seen you checking your reflection."

Stella went beetroot but Claire was laughing again.

"You're one to talk Mac Taylor," she said accusingly. "Only this morning you asked if I thought you should go to the gym more often."

Now it was Mac's turn to colour as both women laughed helplessly at him.

Stella had never felt so comfortable in her partner's presence before. Claire had spent all of dinner chastising him for being a grouch at work and for being mean to Stella, causing him to splutter many times, much to Stella's amusement.

Had she merely met Claire at the hairdressers or in a bar Stella would never have pegged her for the wife of the solemn and serious man whom she worked with. But that was before this evening, before she had seen Mac Taylor actually laugh out loud at something or get embarrassed or crack a joke. Slowly but surely she could feel her dislike for him ebbing away. She was sure he was still a supercilious pain in the ass but she was now also sure that he was human.

When dinner was finished Mac offered to make the coffee.

"I'm not allowed to make coffee any more," whispered Claire as they moved back through to the living room. "Ever since I mixed up the sugar shaker with the salt cellar when we were visiting his parents in Chicago a couple of years ago. He's never trusted me with his coffee ever since."

Stella giggled but her laughter only made very clear to her the fact that she desperately needed to pee.

"Uh, can I use your bathroom?" she asked.

"Sure, it's through the bedroom, across the hall."

"Thanks."

She made a dash for it and managed to find the light switch on the first try. Afterwards she felt a lot better and took a quick glance around the bedroom on her way out. There were more photographs of people she assumed were both Mac and Claire's parents, another one of the wedding and one of Mac's unit in the marines, a bunch of strong looking guys in khaki and sunglasses. There was also a guitar stand in one corner and the black shape of a guitar case against the wall.

Coming back to the living room she flopped back onto the sofa with Claire again.

"Who's is the guitar?" she asked.

Claire groaned.

"Urgh, that's Mac's."

"What's Mac's?"

Mac was carrying a tray with three mugs and a box of chocolate mints which he put down on the coffee table. Picking up one he handed it to Stella.

"Cream and three sugars right?" he asked.

She nodded a wordless reply. They had been partners for four months and she had absolutely no idea how he took his coffee. What was more she didn't know how he knew how she took her coffee, seeing as he had never made her any before. It wasn't something that they did, although she was now determined to return the favour.

"Stella spotted your guitar in the bedroom," sighed Claire.

Mac grinned slyly.

"You mean my other woman?"

Claire rolled her eyes.

"He loves that thing," she said with mock disgust.

"Oh, sweetie don't be jealous," he smirked. "Just because Lucille and I make beautiful music together."

Stella almost choked on her coffee as Claire pretended to be sick.

"You named your guitar Lucille?" she asked.

Mac only shrugged.

"What else would you call a bass?" he asked as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Stella shrugged.

"I once dated a guy who called his car Michelle," she offered.

"See!" said Mac, looking triumphantly at his wife.

"He had sex with it," she added, sipping her coffee lightly.

Now it was Claire's turn to laugh while Mac paled.

"You have to come to dinner more often," whooped Claire as the phone began to ring.

"Hello," she said picking up the receiver.

"Oh hey mom, what's up?"

She rolled her eyes at her husband and made an apologetic face at Stella before lifting the phone and trudging towards the bedroom as Mac flopped down into an armchair.

"She calls two or three times a week to see if she's divorced me yet," said Mac.

"Are you serious?" asked Stella.

"Only partly."

She flicked a hand at him which caught him on the arm.

"Ouch!"

He rubbed the spot and she wondered for a second if she'd gone too far. But he smiled at her.

"I guess I probably deserve that," he said.

"For joking about your mother-in-law?"

"For being a jackass in general."

Stella looked into her coffee, hoping to see a reply floating in it.

"Oh," was the only thing she could think to say.

"Stella."

She looked up. She was pretty sure that was the first time he had called her that other than when introducing her to other people. Normally he referred to her as "Bonasera" and she to him as "Taylor" but she suspected that that might be about to change.

Mac looked as though his mouth and his brain were wrestling over what to say. In the end he gave up and put out a hand to her instead.

"Friends?" he asked.

She looked at the hand for a second then up into his face, a face that no longer seemed as disagreeable as it had a few short hours ago.

Reaching out she grasped his hand.

"Friends," she replied as they shook then they smiled at each other.

"Oh and for the record," she added. "You without the suit; weird good."

He chuckled.

"Thanks," he said.

They sat in silence again for a few minutes but now it was a companionable silence. It ended when Claire re-appeared with the phone which she was pretending to strangle.

"Are you sure murder is illegal?" she asked her husband as she replaced it on the sideboard.

"Unfortunately," he replied and opened his arms slightly, allowing her to slip easily into his lap.

She buried her face in his shoulder for a second and groaned in exasperation.

"But just think," he added, stroking her back gently. "If the old bitch had never existed I wouldn't have you, and that would never do."

Claire lifted her head from his shoulder and grinned at him, brushing her nose against his.

"Soppy," she accused.

"True, but you love me anyway," he replied with a smirk and then he kissed her gently, just a little sweet kiss as she wound her arms around his neck.

Stella watched them quietly. They made a very sweet couple. She got a kind of warm feeling watching them together that made her glad she had come tonight.

When they finished kissing they both looked at her and blushed.

"Sorry," muttered Mac.

"It's okay," said Stella, and trying not to yawn. "It's time I was heading off anyway."

"No, don't go yet," pleaded Claire. "I have to tell you all Mac's embarrassing kinks."

"Claire!"

"And then there's the baby stories, I think I've even got some pictures somewhere that his mom lent me."

"Claire!"

Stella laughed at Mac's obvious discomfort but shook her head.

"Tempting as that sounds I think we'll have to leave it for next time. If I stay here I'll fall asleep on your sofa and I have a very grumpy partner who'll get pissed if I'm all aches and pains in the morning," she teased.

Mac just shrugged at her.

"Well, if you bring it on yourself…" he began but stopped when Claire whacked him in the stomach.

"Next time then," she said, clambering out of his lap while Stella pulled her shoes back on.

"At least let us call you a cab?"

"Nah, don't worry. I'll be fine."

Claire kept badgering her to wait until they called a cab until Stella was standing in the doorway. Then she gave up and hugged her goodbye.

"We'll do this again soon," she insisted and Stella nodded.

"See you tomorrow," she called to Mac.

"Night," he replied, pulling his wife back into his arms as she released his partner.

She managed to grab a cab outside and got a whole five hours in bed before she was woken by a call.

She made her way to the scene, grumbling about the hour as she did so. When she go there Mac was already there looking impeccable in his suit and tie as usual.

"Hey," he said when he saw her and held out a paper cup which she discovered to her delight was full of coffee.

"Hey," she returned.

They shared a brief smile before she turned to the scene.

"What have we got?"

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"Penny for your thoughts?" said a voice behind her.

Stella turned slightly on her barstool and smiled at Mac as he plopped down on the stool next to her.

"I was just thinking about that first night I went to dinner at your apartment," she said.

He frowned slightly.

"That old brownstone Claire and I had?"

"Yeh. You remember that night?"

He smiled.

"I remember you and Claire laughing at Lucille."

Stella chuckled. The idea of Mac Taylor naming his guitar never ceased to amuse her. When the laughter faded she glanced down at her glass.

"You know, I thought you hated me back then."

"Funny, I thought you hated me."

"I did."

"I was right then."

"You usually are, that was part of why I hated you I think."

"Thanks."

She felt a hand on her arm and looked up into his eyes. She got a strange sense of déjà vu as she watched his brain and mouth try and work out what to say. Eventually, he just gestured towards the door.

"You want a ride home?" he asked.

She grinned at him.

"Sure."

She grabbed her coat and her purse and they left the bar. Mac opened the door to his truck for her before climbing in himself.

"You know Lucille really is a dumb name for a guitar Mac," she told him as he started the engine.

"Oh yeh, and what would you call it."

"Arnold."

He shook his head.

"Are you serious?"

"Only partly."

"Remind me to schedule you a psyche evaluation Stella."

"Just take me home Taylor."

"Yes ma'm."

And the truck rolled away from the kerb and into the night.