CSI:NY and its characters are the property of CBS, Jerry Brukheimer and Anthony Zuiker. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Finer Things

During the first hint of spring…

Mac Taylor didn't expect this when he was finally ready to bed Stella Bonasera. They'd known each other in good times and bad before making the move into a dating relationship.

He'd followed the prescribed course—flowers, dinners, a show and now the obligatory walk in the park. During this the first major make-out session ignited after tentative kisses became sparked with passion. Mac was mentally trying to decide if he was going to get lucky before the third official date. He tried to ascertain whose apartment was closer while still keeping his lips and hands busy on Stella's hot body.

She'd slithered that lush body against him. Stella pried her lips from his to whisper in his ear, "Let's sit on the bench. I have a confession to make."

He leaned back to regain his power of thought and speech. "Do I need to Mirandize you?"

"Not quite." She pushed him onto the end of the nearest bench and looked around for anyone they might know. Satisfied she dropped on to Mac's lap and twined her arms around his neck. She smiled as his arms automatically bracketed her waist. "You sure are good at keeping a suspect in custody."

"I prefer this method to getting out the cuffs." Off Stella's beautifully arched eyebrow he admitted, "Well at least out in public or until we get better acquainted."

"As usual you're on target, for as long as we've been close there is a whole other world opening up to us."

"Regrets, Stella?" Mac caught his breath at the sudden realization she might be putting the brakes on the steps it had taken forever for him to make.

"Nary a one, the Fates have plotted our course—we're where we're meant to be."

"Okay." He tapped a finger to her nose. "Then what is holding us back from our next big step. Let me take you home with me."

"I'm not sure until you hear my confession. It'll sound ridiculous."

"I doubt anything on your mind is anything but important. But I can't determine that until you tell me."

"Your place is closer, however I'd prefer we go to my place."

Mac's heart quickened at the implication she was talking about making love. "Okay, wherever you're most comfortable, that's the destination that gets my vote." He took a deep breath and continued, "I hope you'll let me take you to bed and show you how much you mean to me."

"And you mean enough to me for me to confess something before we go any further."

"Stella, you are scaring me."

"Don't be afraid, well maybe when you know how shallow I am, you'll run."

"I could never think of you as shallow." Mac tightened his grip on her, "What is this all about? Just say it straight out."

"Fine. Mac, I want to spend the night with you and please, at my place."

"Didn't I already give the green light?" Mac paused, "I'm honored you're changing your no men policy tonight."

She blew out a frustrated breath. "That admission was never meant to include the team, my friends."

Mac allowed her off his lap when he sensed her impatience. "Stella, I'm sorry I brought it up. I wasn't trying to upset you or remind you of…"

"That's not it." She paced in front of the park bench gesturing passionately with her arms while Mac watched. "Up until now, I didn't let men spend the night. But Mac, it's imperative you understand, you're not men—you're the man. The man I want to love, the man I want to sleep with, to wake up with. Does that make sense and does it scare the Hell out of you?"

In that moment, his earlier doubts shattered and were replaced in quick succession with trepidation, longing and then exhilaration. He jumped up from the bench to grab her hand, "I'm the man right—you just said so and that means I can handle it all."

She was being tugged toward the park entrance. "You're suddenly in a really big hurry."

"Baby, you don't know the half of it." Mac pivoted to grab her up and toss her onto his back, piggyback style. "Time's a wasting, Bonasera, there's love to be made."

Stella wasn't often speechless; she'd remember this as one of the occasions. Even jaded New Yorkers were grinning and pointing as Mac trotted toward the nearest cab stand. She swooned a little in her mind because her man, her buttoned up, by the book Mac Taylor wasn't even panting hard as he carried her. This was a facet of his personality she hadn't suspected existed.

He was on sheer adrenaline so she wasn't heavy at all especially in his euphoric state of mind. Exhilaration like now could last be traced to his youth in Chicago when everything seemed possible. It did once again. Mac didn't want to let go of Stella's legs once they reached the line of waiting cabs. "Stella?"

"Got you covered, literally and figuratively, Mac." She waved an arm and then put two fingers to her mouth in a shrill whistle. "Oops, sorry Honey."

"Luckily, I have two ears and I applaud the eagerness." He dropped to one knee to allow her feet to touch the ground. As he held the cab door open for her, it would be the last time they would touch the ground in the real world sense. Mac and Stella were bent on touching the stars and touching each other's souls.

Stella's apartment was warm and welcoming. Tonight, it was even more so for the friends who were about to be lovers. From the time the cab door had closed until now; Stella's fingers were linked with his. She'd settled her head on his shoulder and when he'd cleared his throat to speak she'd shaken her head. The silence didn't concern Mac. He concluded Stella was right; this was too monumental a shift in their lives for small talk.

They'd stayed quiet after he paid the driver and she'd led him to the elevator. Words had never been necessary between them; however, someone had to say something now. She dropped his hand and unlocked her door. Stella tossed her most brilliant smile over her shoulder, "Welcome home, Darling. Welcome to my world."

Mac's happiness spiked off the scale. He closed the door with his foot and reached for Stella with anxious arms.

()()()

Stella watched Mac in the candlelight of her bedroom. She was glad they'd paused long enough to light the pillars before passion took over. He looked so sexy in the flickering light. Mac had carefully rolled off of her after they finished making love. Now, he was trying to settle next to her without straying far from her side.

She rose up onto her elbow and pushed him onto his back with a giggle. "Hey there, Marine."

"Uh, hi."

"Mac, get comfortable. Once you get your second wind, we're going again. After that, you sleep in my bed and when we get up, I'll make breakfast."

He stroked her bare shoulder, "Maybe I'd like you to be the main course."

"Lucky for me, we're not on the duty roster until tomorrow night."

"That's lucky for both of us. I'm starting to suspect that's how we ended up here."

"You mean I maneuvered this to happen since time was on our side?" She cocked her head at him, "I have experience with how your mind works Taylor, you were trying to decide if this could be construed as our third date and therefore, get lucky night. Remember, I've seen your game in action and it can be pretty lame."

"Not from where I'm sitting or rather reclining." He flicked her hair back from her face, "I'm 'the man' and the most desirable woman in the world is within touching distance and we're not on the clock."

"Nice save, Mac."

The dark haired man shrugged, "I don't have a bag with me so I will have to head back to my place before our tour tomorrow night."

"Understood." Stella draped one of her long shapely legs over his well muscled thigh. "At least we use the same phone charger; I'll keep you charged up in every way possible."

Mac laughed, "More like draining me, not that I'm complaining. We have options…"

"Oh, I like options."

He gulped at the purr in her voice. "I definitely need to take more vitamins around you. I meant we can use my place for part of our romantic discovery time. You pack a bag and I will even carry it for you."

The candlelight couldn't disguise the veil of doubt falling over Stella's large expressive eyes. Tension now stirred the air that a short time before had been ruled by passion. Mac pushed his own anxiety down and waited for his lover to take the lead.

She bit her lip, fought back tears and took a deep breath. "The carrying is a lovely offer and one I haven't had in years, since my school days."

"But…"

"Yeah but, I don't sleep voluntarily at other places. It's a rule."

"Like the one you broke tonight and that you're now regretting?" Mac hated that there was a trace of doubt in his own voice.

"An exception for the most exceptional man I've ever known." A tear spilled out of her eye and down her cheek. "A man I don't deserve and who will be disappointed in me."

"That would make me anything but exceptional and I want to be the man you want and the man you want me to be." He let his thumb gently sweep over the tear, "Straight out, why don't you want to stay at my place. It's very nice and has an actual bedroom with walls and everything."

"Okay." Stella took a deep breath and blew it out before continuing. "Mac, what is the thread count on your sheets?"

"The what? The thread count? I don't have the faintest idea. I'm sure they meet the industry standards." He could hear himself babbling but she'd caught him off guard. "Do you have some kind of fabric allergy I don't know about?"

"Not a physical allergy, I don't like sheets that aren't, well, luxury counts." She looked away from his probing gaze, "I told you. I'm shallow. I wouldn't be surprised if you're disappointed in me."

"Darling, I could never be disappointed in you or think you're shallow. You're anything but…"

She sniffled, "You called me 'Darling' after I tell you I'm materialistic and mercenary. I don't deserve you."

"If a simple endearment earns tears, what's going to happen when I use the "L" word?"

To his surprise instead of turning toward him, Stella rolled away from him on the bed and he heard a sob muffled by the sheet. That reminded him of her question about linens. He slid across the bed and covered her body with his. "Tell me please, what is this all about?"

She placed her hand in his and stayed spooned against him. "I only sleep on sheets with ultrahigh thread counts."

"I see."

"These are 820 count and the blanket is a silk and cotton blend."

"My sheets are fine. I doubt they're this luxurious." Mac let his head rest on her shoulder, "That's why you never stayed over at a place when…"

"You mean at a lover's."

"Okay."

"Yes, that was one reason." It was Stella's turn to shrug, "I told you—shallow."

"Stop. Tell more about this preference."

She continued in a soft voice, "More like an obsession. When I was a kid, there was never anything of good quality. At St. Basil's, all the sheets and blankets were white and thin. They always smelled of bleach and there wasn't enough money for extras like fabric softener. That meant they were stiff and rough."

Mac pictured a small, curly haired girl searching for some comfort in a lonely, bleak life. He kept silent certain she wouldn't want pity. Instead, he simply tightened his grip on her and let her keep talking.

"And foster care. None of the families were wealthy meaning castoff sheets or mismatched odds and ends. Didn't matter if they were soft, they weren't your choice. Then, I figured out things could be different once I was on my own."

"You deserve the best of everything, Stella."

She eased out of his arms to lie on her back and look into his eyes. Stella ran her fingers through his hair. "I have the best now."

"How did you learn about what's top shelf?"

"It started in college when I bought a 'Bed-in-a-Bag' set. Everything was soft and matched for the first time in my life. I vowed I wouldn't live with mismatched, blah castoffs ever again." She indicated the linens with a wave of her hand, "I started going through linen departments in the better stores to learn more after I read an article about some celebrity's linen closet. Every time my pay grade went up so did my thread counts."

"Now, you're up to 820 and silk for the blankets, plus no white."

"I live ivory, gold or blue." She smiled as she gazed into his eyes, "Blue reminds me of your eyes. Up until now, if I couldn't be close to you I could surround myself with the color that is a pale imitation of your beautiful, soulful eyes."

Mac flushed at her compliment. "One more question for you to answer, do these wear better for the extra expense?"

"They do. At least that's what I tell myself."

"Then you can consider it a long term investment."

"In the interests of full disclosure, when they show any signs of wear or need repair—I get rid of them."

"It's your money."

"It is and I'm aware I'm excessive in terms of wanting things a certain way." Stella shrugged, "In my defense, I do donate them to charity."

"No defense needed."

She wiggled around to drape over him and ease him onto his back. "Then, I think I'll play offense. You should have your second wind."

He pulled her to him and seized her lips. After a hot kiss that melted any doubts she had about confiding her preference for life's finer things, Mac looked into those lovely sea siren's eyes. "How about we go shopping so I can upgrade my sheets?"

"Thank you, Mac." Stella smiled, "Maybe I can just loan you a set to start."

"We can negotiate some kind of deal. All good?"

Her smile faded a bit and she bit her lip. "Um, Mac—Honey, what are your towels made of?"

"My towels? I don't have a clue. Oh God, those need to measure up to certain standards too?"

She climbed on top of him, shook back her hair and then lowered herself onto him. She was wet and tight encasing him with her heat. Her voice took on a husky edge that accelerated his already rapid heartbeat. "No worries Mac, you more than measure up to my most important standard."

"Best news I've had in the last hour. Oh. God. Stella, yes…."

()()()

Mac had discovered he was happy to indulge Stella's desire for sleeping on high thread count sheets. It made her happy and was no hardship for him.

He'd learned that her preference for towels was uptown too. She leaned toward towels of Egyptian cotton with multi-twisted threads. Like her sheets, the few complete sets she had matched—no odd or worn pieces. As he'd promised, Mac priced a similar set of linens for his place. He'd gulped at the thought of spending hundreds of dollars for something he'd only use a few hours a night.

Besides, he didn't think he'd really discerned any noticeable difference to justify the expense. He was fine with Stella spending her money on items that psychologically made her feel better but he could live without them.

That was until he spent a night alone in his bed with his sheets. It was actually in his extra room. He couldn't face the master bedroom without Stella to share the bed. He grinned at what a sap he'd become, yes—he had it bad for this loveliest of women.

And he'd have to do without her tonight. Their schedules were at opposite ends of the clock. Mac was on a dayside tour to prep for a trial along with finishing up the plans for an upcoming lecture for visiting forensic techs. Stella remained on the night shift and without Mac around she'd be tied even more to the lab.

She'd ruefully laughed to Mac that she wouldn't even have time to stop by and tuck him in for bed. He'd laughed with her at the time, however now the reality of not having Stella next to him in bed left him feeling empty.

He stretched out on the guest room bed and waited for exhaustion to claim him. It was like the old days, he was on his back staring at the ceiling. This time he couldn't get comfortable in the bed. The sheets felt scratchy and unforgiving.

Reality struck in the instant he folded his arm behind his head and felt the pillow case. He hadn't only become used to Stella's lush curves and her silken hair whispering over his body to delight and satisfy him. The smooth, soft caress of the linens combined with her warm sensuality had spoiled him for the mundane and monastic.

Mac now wanted the luxury along with craving the companionship and presence of Stella. Or at least the promise her absence would only be temporary. A sigh slipped from his lips as he sat up in bed certain he wouldn't be getting any sleep. Instead, he reached for his laptop to put his time to good use.

Anyone familiar with Mac would have recognized that intense gaze as total concentration. However, they would have been stunned to see it honed in on jewelry websites as he researched diamond and wedding sets.

He loved Stella and wanted to make sure he offered her something worthy of a woman who recognized Tiffany's from a satellite photo.

Whatever ring Mac picked he'd also pick up a gift card for some pricey store's linen department. He wanted green sheets and towels to mirror his beloved's haunting eyes.

Yes, without your own goddess and 820 count sheets, sleep was overrated.

(TBC)