Let's talk about [food] …

Summary: Sometimes you need a break from worries, work and school. Sharon has a little surprise for Rusty.

A/N: Set before everything became too angsty; so sometime before 2x10 I'd guess. And oh gosh, it's been so long since I've written anything – I feel like I've forgotten how to keyboard! Bah… Anyways, I hope you enjoy =) Btw, this was written under the influence of broccoli, yeah, so there's that. =)

…

/Porridge/

Lieutenant Flynn was eyeing the waitress that came with their breakfast orders, or rather Rusty amended when he looked closer, the lieutenant was eyeing the tray of food. Rusty quickly grabbed the milkshake he had ordered, noting that the lieutenant's eyes were longingly on the milk beverage, dark brown eyes focused on nothing but the food that were set in front of them.

"Oh come off it, Flynn," Provenza growled once the waitress was out of view, "Eat your food in peace and stop it with that god-awful look on your face."

"Huh," Flynn said, coming out of his trance, his eyes going from wistfully looking at Rusty's pancakes lathered with syrup to glare annoyingly at Provenza.

"Your miserable face is ruining my appetite," Provenza clarified between forkfuls of omelet that were quickly replaced by a strip of bacon.

Rusty took a long sip of his milkshake, noting that the food Flynn had ordered did look somewhat miserable indeed. A lonesome banana with a glass of water and what appeared to be some sort of greyish looking porridge with too little liquid in it.

"I don't' know what you're talking about," Flynn retorted, having plunged a spoon into his porridge, his eyebrows coming together in a dubious look despite his words. He proceeded to gulp down the dense porridge on the spoon, his face still looking somewhat strained. He then sighed, slurped down a large amount of water. Probably the water made the porridge easier to digest, Rusty thought, chewing on his own sugar-coated pancakes, mightily glad for once not to be subjected to much scrutiny. He enjoyed merely listening to the two older men even if they made a big show out of grumbling far more than he previously thought possible. That and it was far too early to be having coherent thoughts, let alone a coherent conversation; Rusty was still tired and more importantly he was hungry.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Provenza looked skyward, then offered a strip of bacon towards Flynn, "Here, have some real food."

Flynn snorted, his lips curling apart in part derision, part disgust, "I'm a vegetarian – or have you forgotten!"

Provenza rolled his eyes, briefly catching Rusty's eyes – Rusty smiled.

"I've seen you eat bacon every morning for the last ten years, Flynn, don't tell me you've suddenly decided bacon is meat after all!"

"I just don't feel like it."

"Feel like it?" Provenza ate the bacon himself, an incredulous look upon his face now, "What are you, some health nut all of a sudden? Cuz, this 'oh woe, poor me act' and 'I can only drink water and eat whatever that grey mush is', it's getting on my nerves."

Flynn crossed his arms, huffing, "I'm merely trying to eat healthy, you old fool."

Provenza made a grimace, pointing another strip of bacon at Flynn to make a point, "Eat all your grey swill then but stop looking so depressed about it."

Flynn mumbled something, angrily peeling his banana and showing a large chunk into his mouth, chewing angrily as well, scooting a glare at Provenza.

"You're on medication, Flynn. There's no need to torture yourself."

"Whatever," Flynn mumbled, his mouth full of banana mash.

Provenza rolled his eyes again, then shut up and took a sip of his coffee.

There was silence for a while, the three of them eating, the sky outside the little diner slowly turning brighter and brighter.

Provenza got his coffee refilled, and then after putting in three – no four – cubes of sugar, he looked intently at Flynn.

"If you're so serious about this, you should ask the Captain," Provenza said.

"Wha?" Flynn's eyebrows receded to his hairline.

"I'm sure she knows a thing or two about eating healthily – why, she probably eats seaweed or broccoli for breakfast," Provenza gave a feigned shudder at the notion.

Rusty's smile widened.

Flynn shook his head, looking further annoyed.

Rusty decided to butt into their conversation; "She eats yoghurt."

Both men looked at him as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"Sharon usually eats yogurt and muesli for breakfast," Rusty explained.

Provenza gave a nod, drinking coffee while Flynn pursed his lips.

"But she does eat broccoli?" Flynn prodded.

Rusty gave an affirmative nod, his mouth full of pancakes again.

Flynn sighed yet again and did not say anything further.

Rusty wondered once again what Sharon was doing; she had turned him over to the two lieutenants early this morning with a smile, talking about something she needed to fix in San Diego. So, Rusty was stuck with the two lieutenants who were going to make sure he got to summer school and back again sometime in the evening.

"She eats pancakes when I make them though," Rusty told them, somehow needing to clarify she was not that much of a health nut.

"Right," Provenza smiled knowingly, "But does she put syrup on them?"

Rusty shook his head, "Not really."

"Aha, health nut then, most definitely," Provenza quirked an eyebrow in Flynn's direction, "See, you just ask the Captain Monday morning and I'm sure she'll give you great recipes for broccoli dishes."

Rusty grinned.

Flynn quickly swallowed some more water and then turned to Provenza, "We'll see who's laughing come our next physical."

Provenza soured.

"Physical?" Rusty asked.

"Fitness evaluation," Flynn explained suddenly looking chipper.

"Bah," Provenza said around another sip of coffee but he looked far from serene.

"You should join Sharon on her morning runs," Rusty told the two men, "then really, you can eat all the food you want with no worries."

They both looked horrified at the suggestion.

"I don't run," Provenza said dryly.

"He really doesn't," Flynn agreed with a laugh, pointing his spoon at Provenza.

/Apricots/

Eyes still on the road, Sharon quickly grabbed the bag of dried, brown apricots that lay on the passenger seat along with her purse and a bottle of water.

She took four apricots from the bag and put one in her mouth, slowing down as she saw the car in front decelerating, a sign declaring the speed limit had been set down due to road maintenance.

She sighed; this would take forever. She looked at the watch display, wondering whether Rusty had been driven to school yet. The lieutenants had agreed to make sure he got to and from school, even inviting the boy with them to breakfast. To say she was a bit worried was maybe not an exact description but she did worry to a certain degree – it had nothing to do with the lieutenants, she generally worried about Rusty. It was such a tenuous situation, carefully balanced for now.

Her phone rang then – she answered without looking at the display, more focused on not rear riding the Mercedes in front of her.

"Captain Raydor," she huffed out, distracted.

"Captain," came lieutenant Provenza's voice, sincerity in it that she never would have imagined two years back but now it was an everyday occurrence.

"Lieutenant," she greeted with a questioning lilt to her tone.

"You're on speaker phone," Provenza said, "Flynn's here as well."

"Hey Captain," Flynn butted in.

She smiled, "Hey."

"We dropped the kid off," Flynn told her, and she heard Provenza mumbling something about a red light; she imagined Flynn was driving and Provenza was grumbling about his driving skills. She shook her head in amusement.

"Just wanted to let you know," Flynn continued, a warm smile in his voice.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," she replied.

"Don't mention it," Provenza said, and if she had to guess then she would wager there was a smile in his voice as well, "We have to ensure the kid knows there are other food groups than green."

She rolled her eyes, catching Flynn chuckling over the line. They were probably driving to central, having just dropped Rusty off at school.

"No offense, Captain," Provenza continued, "But the kid gulfed down pancakes as if his life depended on it."

She chuckled, "With lots of syrup, I'd imagine."

Provenza gave an affirmative hum and Sharon put another apricot in her mouth, wondering if the slow trickle of traffic she had landed in would ever move at a speed that did not resemble moving backwards.

"What're you munching on?" Flynn asked her then, and she heard a siren in the background over the phone.

"Apricots," she smiled, and sure enough both men made a sound as if disgusted.

She laughed, "It's delicious, gentlemen"

"Bah," Provenza huffed, then, "We'll take the kid home as well, let you know when we drop him off."

She said her thanks again and then ended the conversation.

She turned the radio station to jazz, breathed out and consented to not letting slow traffic ruin her day; even if they were now standing completely still. She ate another handful of apricots.

A moment later, her phone beeped.

She smiled wider, knowing it was Rusty without looking.

/Broccoli/

Later, Rusty contemplated the contents of the refrigerator. Sharon had texted him an hour earlier that she would be home soon with something edible. Knowing Sharon however, her dinner would consist of something green and leafy; it would in no way resemble what Rusty found himself craving.

But then again, maybe she would bring something altogether different. Sharon had strange moods when it came to take-away. Sometimes she brought home a pizza and it was filled with meat and cheese and spicy things and she had already eaten a slice when Rusty opened the box – he figured she had cravings for something messy once in a while as well.

Rusty heard the click of the lock and then the front door opening, his eyes still on the nearly empty fridge.

"Rusty?" Sharon's voice came from the doorway.

"Yeah, in here," he answered. Sharon's head peeked around the wall into the kitchen, her smile wide when Rusty looked up and caught her looking.

"Hey," she said, same grin still wide.

"Hey," Rusty said back, his own smile widening.

Somehow he had ended up missing her even if she had been gone but for a day; even if she had been gone for far longer before when she worked through the night with a case. Rusty thought it had something to do with knowing she was away in another city and not simply at the office.

Sharon came into the kitchen, a brown bag in her hands which she dumped onto the kitchen counter while she stood on one leg and took off a heel. She took the other black high heel off, a hum escaping her at getting rid of her footwear.

"Long day?" Rusty asked, finally closing the fridge door and coming to the counter to have a look in the brown bag.

Sharon hummed again, leaning on the counter, head in her hands. "Long drive in traffic, construction on nearly all the main roads so what should have taken no time at all took grievous time," she paused and snuck the brown bag away from Rusty's hands, and then said with a sigh, " I'm beat."

There was a lightness in her voice despite her proclaimed tiredness.

Rusty tilted his head and crossed his arms, "Let me guess, you brought home some contraption of salad leaves doused in some fancy Italian leafy thing that really is beansprouts"

Sharon tried to hide a smile, "I'm a little more varied than salad with salad"

Rusty gave a shrug of mock-indifference.

She continued, same humored voice, "You'll like it"

Rusty gave her a look of disbelief.

"I promise," she grinned, opening up the bag and producing a plastic bowl with what was without a doubt some kind of salad dominated by broccoli.

Rusty groaned, "Sharon!"

She laughed, then took out another plastic bowl with the same contents and two coke cans. She continued to chuckle, taking the food with her to the den, putting them on the table in front of the TV and turning the channel to news. Rusty followed her, putting a little slouch to his walk.

He sat down next to her, "Provenza's right," he declared.

"What's that?" Sharon said somewhat distracted, getting rid of the lid to the plastic bowls, opening one of the soda cans and taking a sip, her eyes on the headlines flashing at the bottom of the TV screen.

"Provenza's certain you're too particular with what you eat - called you a health nut."

"Really," Sharon was still distracted, her voice pronounced the word with a long drawn breath, her eyes on the food, dipping a fork into her plastic bowl and turning the salad over.

Rusty noticed the chunks then, wondering if it was some kind of trick. He grabbed his own bowl and looked closer at the salad and sure enough there were indeed bits of bacon in between bits of broccoli. There were walnuts in the food as well, he saw, along with something that looked like purple onion-bits. He put a mouthful on his fork and then made a show out of staring at it for a long time before he put it into his mouth.

Sharon was right – it was delicious.

"So?" she inquired in an amused voice.

"Yeah, yeah, it's yummy," Rusty told her, talking with food in his mouth deliberately.

They both grinned.

A news story caught their attention on the TV for a while.

"Did you have a good day?" Sharon asked him sometime later, when they had satisfied their initial hunger and thirst, most of the food gone.

Rusty nodded, "The lieutenants took me to one of their usual breakfast haunts."

"Oh."

"Yeah and apparently Flynn is on some sort of diet – only I'm not sure he has the slightest clue about what that diet consists off."

Sharon chuckled again, "He hasn't begun drinking that caffeinated swill again, has he?"

"No, no – he's eating oatmeal porridge."

"Just plain oatmeal porridge?"

"Yeah"

Sharon hummed again.

"Maybe you could give him some pointers?" Rusty prodded her, drinking the rest of his soda.

Sharon nodded, turned around and faced him, "How do you like the beach?"

Rusty looked at her dumbfounded, the question seeming to come out of thin air. There was however a hint of giddiness in her voice and her smile was gentle.

"My brother has a summerhouse near San Diego and we can borrow it for the weekend," she explained, "It's up to you."

Was this a proposition for a vacation, Rusty wondered. And what did she mean it was up to him?

"What about murders and crime galore?" Rusty found himself asking, thinking Sharon would be called into the office the second they got to whatever summerhouse her brother owned.

"They can get on without me for a couple of days," Sharon gave him a wink, "I've already talked with Chief Taylor about it."

Rusty nodded, and then gave a cheeky smile, "Well, if you insist"

/Rye muffins/

Sharon watched Rusty walking ahead of her, his eyes on the water, bare feet on sand. There was a slight breeze and the sun was only intermittent but it was still a warm day.

There was something troubling him, she knew, but as far as what it was – well, it could be a number of things. It lay under the surface. She had caught him looking strangely at her from time to time in the last month, as if he was contemplating telling her something important. He would tell her eventually, she figured. She had no intention of pushing him; no what was most important in his life right now was that he was safe. She just wanted him to be safe.

Her eyes landed on a flat, black stone. She bent down, picking the sand off it; she smiled as she threw it in the ocean, watching it skim the water surface before it finally fell in. Rusty chuckled, watching her – he then picked a stone himself and tried to throw it as well; it fell into the water immediately.

She arched an eyebrow at him and he reciprocated with an equally bemused expression.

She smiled to herself. The sand was soft underneath her feet, the view tranquil and it had been an outrageous long time since she had had time off to simply enjoy herself. She couldn't even remember the last time she had taken time off deliberately.

"You come here often?" Rusty asked her, looking back over his shoulder, having stopped.

"I used to," she gently patted his shoulder, "especially when my children were small."

Touch was another little thing that was precarious; she had to hold back most often. It was another thing she figured would change, eventually, but it would take time. She just wanted him to feel loved, and yet she had to be aware of not pushing him.

He nodded, looking down at his feet – then looked out to the horizon.

"I like it here," he told her.

She smiled, and couldn't help but pat his shoulder again, "Me too."

They walked further on, the bay stretching for some time yet.

"So what did you pack for lunch?" Rusty asked, sneaking a look back at her. His eyes were crinkled and she pursed her lips at him.

"I saw the way you snuck something into the backpack," he clarified, giving a look to the backpack over her shoulders.

"It's absolutely delicious," she said, her voice shaking with a chuckle.

"Oh yeah."

"Oh yeah," she imitated.

Rusty threw a rock in the ocean, "I'm a bit hungry"

She laughed; sometimes she forgot how much boys ate – even if Rusty was not really a boy. Still, Ricky ate the same amount now as he had back when he had been a teen.

"There's a place just a little further ahead where we can eat lunch."

Rusty hummed.

They walked.

"I've brought blueberries," she told him.

"Is that all?"

She shook her head, "Well, I have some muffins with chocolate as well."

"Muffins?" he looked back, then tilted his head in disbelief, "What kind of muffins are we talking about exactly?"

"Rye," she walked ahead of him, not taking mind that he had stopped.

"Rye?" he started walking again, doing a little trot so he came up along her side, "Rye muffins!"

She nodded, then pointed towards big rocks halfway in the water; "C'mon."

She caught him shaking his head out of the corner of her eye.

"By the way, Sharon," he started.

She hummed, giving him a little wink; indicating they sit on the rocks.

"You're kinda crazy," he continued, his lips trying not to break apart in a smile.

"I brought coffee too, Mister"

"Oh thank god"

"Indeed"

/Raspberries, blackberries/

Sharon lay out on the sun deck, a big somewhat ugly straw hat on her head that gave enough shade for her to read a novel without sunglasses. The little summer house was more elaborate than Rusty had ever imagined, a rustic feel to it despite its obvious scream of money, the two storey wooden construction reminding him of something vintage yet classy.

Rusty took two wineglasses out of a cabinet and poured sparkling water into them, dumping in five frozen raspberries each into the water; they would act as ice cubes as well as flavor the water when they thawed. He quickly sliced a lime and put a few slices in the water as well. He smiled to himself.

He took the beverages with him outside along with a bowl of freshly plucked blackberries. He gave Sharon her glass before sitting down on his own sun chair next to hers, putting the bowl with berries on the table between them.

The terrace with the sun deck was situated on high ground but had view out over the ocean. Rusty found he liked the wide expanse of the ocean and the sound of waves crashing to the shore in the distance, the clouds in the horizon changing form and color before his eyes.

"Mm, this is delicious, Rusty," Sharon commented as she sipped her drink.

Rusty smiled to her and then put on the sun glasses he had borrowed from Sharon. They were definitely feminine and he had had a long, somewhat hilarious conversation with her about them; in the end he had given up and simply worn them.

Sharon had apparently been in San Diego to talk with her brother about borrowing the summer house and acquiring a key. Rusty should have figured it out to a degree - she had after all asked him whether he could swim a couple of weeks ago.

He opened the book he had been reading, the little edge of white paper between pages telling him where he had come to. It wasn't a school book and for once it was relaxing to read something without the express need to remember it for analysis.

"Do you want to go out kayaking, sometime?" Sharon asked him, both of them engrossed in their reading.

Rusty looked up from his spot, "We have kayaks?"

Sharon hummed a yes, and put a blackberry in her mouth, a finger on the top page of her book.

"Sure," he agreed, wondering whether Sharon was accustomed to kayaking.

Sharon caught him looking, her eyebrow quirking, "Don't worry, I'm efficient at paddling and capable of swimming should I fall into the water."

Rusty pursed his own lips imitating her look, "I'm not worried."

She smiled.

"I have a safe vest in your size."

"Okay," he agreed, secretly glad she knew what he was thinking about. Even if he had lived relatively close to the ocean his whole life and even though one of his mom's boyfriends had once taught him to swim, Rusty was not that familiar with that much water. A swimming pool was one thing and an ocean wide water pool was an entirely different thing.

Sharon gave him a warm smile, "We'll pack a picnic to take with us as well; how does that sound?"

It sounded tranquil, Rusty reflected. It was tranquil; this – just the two of them, far away from worries and trouble. Being away from LA, away from school and the thought of what awaited him at home; the letters, the trial, Kris. No, just Sharon and him, out here where they rarely saw other people; it was perfect in its own way.

He smiled, "Wonderful."

/

=)