Fake Fan Fiction ❯ FAKE In Love: Act XVIII, A Nice Buzz ❯ Dating Jamie ( Chapter 5 )

Timeline: Set just before the last Act. There seemed to have been some confusion/need for explanation for Rose's little…fun…with Jamie Karlisle. So here's how they hooked up. And I'm not making any money off of this, don't try and sue me.

 

She had left her jacket.

Berkeley Rose sighed heavily and shook his head. No, it was worse than that because the damn thing wasn't even really a jacket. It was a skimpy little shawl that she had worn draped down her shoulders, a damn swatch really that didn't cover anything. She had been the perfect escort, smiling, intelligent, well spoken, interesting, and sliding a fresh drink into his hand whenever he started to tense up. He had enjoyed her company, understandably so, and (once he had gotten his first look at her when he pulled up to her apartment to drive her to the Ball) he hadn't once regretted the spontaneous act of asking her.

They had danced, they had chatted, they had laughed…And then he had gotten the phone call. He explained everything to her in hushed tones, his hand heavy upon her arm as he led her to the doorway. She nodded simply and didn't once try to slow him down, simply climbing into his freezing car and asking what she could do. Berkeley Rose had taken off his coat then and given it to her; he was a gentleman dammit, and if he couldn't have the car warmed for her, he'd do what he could.

They spoke quietly as he drove her home, their voices still low despite the closeness of the car, or maybe because of it. She never once complained about anything, and handed him back his coat as she climbed out of the car. She told him to call if he needed anything, and he had nodded, distracted, and she hadn't been offended.

It wasn't until later that he realized her damn…wrap thing was lying on the seat of his car.

And it wasn't until much later that he realized that Berkeley Rose had actually ended a date without a goodnight kiss.

Now there was a fact to irk a man, convenience date or not.

He stared at the flowing fabric, her shawl now perfectly innocent looking on his couch. What in the hell was he supposed to do with it? God knew that the gossip was already spinning through the precinct, what would they say if he showed up in the CSI offices to return some clothing to her? He closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't even want to think about it.

“Why am I even thinking about this?” he muttered irritably.

He had other things on his mind, important matters to look after, one of his officers had shot a suspect after all, and yet, here he was, fussing over a piece of fabric.

He wondered if it was made of the same material as her dress. He wondered if it still smelled like her.

He groaned at that thought. God that was creepy. It was official, he needed to get out more, and out meaning less work related functions and more actual human contact. He sighed and slumped back in his comfortable chair, one hand rising to rub at his temple.

God this was so juvenile. He felt like he was back in middle school and had somehow stumbled on the pretty girl's pen.

“Shit,” Rose hissed, a defeated look on his face.

When had Jamie Karlisle become the pretty girl?

“I'm going insane.”

 

Berkeley Rose had a reputation to look after. He was dashing, he was handsome, he was refined and educated, and he did what he had to to be respectable and a viable political candidate. Yes, he flirted, yes, he had dated a large portion of NYPD's available female officers (and to a lesser extent NYPD's available male officers), but there was always something official about his relationships. There was always a backdoor, always a way to get out if things didn't work, and always, always, a way to keep that respectability and stunning reputation.

He had plans after all.

The day would come when he'd run for a real office, something powerful and upstanding, and when they looked back on his records there would be no blemishes. There would be no reason for anyone to ever question him about any scandal or rumor. There would be nothing. He took great care to see to that.

So that was what he would bank on now.

He would simply ask her to come up to his office, ostensibly to discuss a case report or something else, and casually return the little slip of a shawl she had left with him. He would do so with carefully planned precision; he'd wait until she was just about to leave and suddenly remember it. It was perfect.

He should have known she'd screw it up for him.

“Hey, Commissioner!”

Rose paused on the precinct steps, his coffee clutched in one hand and an armload of files (and a discreetly boxed shawl) precariously balanced in the other. One eyebrow lifted as he looked back, his expression carefully blank and stern. He half-way expected some reporter or irritated city official, what he got was CSI Karlisle. She bounded up the steps after him, her eyes set and face serious.

“How are things?” she asked, one hand lightly resting a moment on his arm.

Oh good God he was not supposed to notice how she touched him.

“Er, difficult,” he said, his mind suddenly blank.

She nodded and continued toward the wide entryway, Rose finding himself now caught up in her wake. He felt like she was tugging him along, and he actually had to quicken his pace a little to keep up with her.

“And Ryo? And Dee? Are they okay?”

“Shaken up,” he answered. “They're on leave today.”

“Of course,” she said and turned to look at him, her gaze freezing both of them where they stood.

“And how are you?”

Rose blinked. How was he? What?

“Uh, fine?” he answered with a confused look.

She smiled slightly and shook her head.

“I'm sure you are,” she said. “Come on, I'll let you pour me some coffee.”

He chuckled quietly and held the door for her, deftly juggling coffee, files, and a (still discreetly wrapped) shawl. She smiled at him again and Rose couldn't help but smile back.

“Oh,” she said suddenly and paused again just inside the door, her hand again moving to rest on his arm. “My throw. I think I left it in your car.”

Rose nodded. “Yes, you did.”

“You've got it?”

“I…left it at home.”

Oh good God what was he doing?

“I'm sorry,” he told her with a slight shake of his head. “It just slipped my mind this morning.”

She nodded.

“Yeah,” she said quietly and shrugged slightly. “I guess I'll just have to stop by your place tonight and pick it up. You'll be home around nine?”

“What? Yes, I suppose…”

“Good, I'll see you then. Have a good day Commissioner!”

And with that she had basically disappeared and left him standing dazed in the damn front entryway.

“What was that?” the front desk clerk teased loudly.

Rose spun to face down a new recruit, the man behind the desk grinning, but the smile soon held no happiness as Commissioner Rose bore down on him.

And yet, the whole time, as he chewed out one man for being unprofessional, he had been thinking that now he had to haul the damn scarf home and find some way to casually leave it lying by the door.

 

She brought wine.

Berkeley Rose was beginning to suspect that this woman was the devil, because for a simple first year CSI, she was bringing a lot of torment and mental distress into his life.

“I thought you'd need to relax some,” she explained as she handed him the chilled bottle and walked inside.

She quickly picked up the scarf and tucked it into her jacket pocket before she shed her coat and handed it absently to him. He took it numbly and hung it up for her, then slipped into the kitchen to pour them some wine. This whole thing was starting to spiral out of control. Berkeley Rose did not do out of control.

He handed her her glass, already planning to quickly down his and encourage her to leave as soon as possible. She was throwing him off somehow, something about her upsetting all his usual charm and smoothness. He felt awkward trying to smile and hand her the glass at the same time. Goddammit he could juggle politicians, a circus of crazy officers, and enough paperwork to clog a river, so he could damn well handle this.

She took the glass and they managed not to say anything for a full five minutes as both looked around his apartment. At last she sighed heavily and set down her wine glass.

“Do you like me?” she asked bluntly.

Berkeley Rose almost choked on his wine.

“What?” he managed after he successfully set down his wine without pouring it all over himself; it seemed quite an accomplishment at the time.

“I…I just was wondering if…”

She closed her eyes, a faint blush running over her face.

“I know this isn't the time,” she said. “I know if I asked you if you wanted to go for coffee, you'd tell me that things were busy right now, but you'd be delighted as soon as it all settled down. And then when I asked about lunch a couple of months from now, you'd be trying to untangle some other debacle and you'd have to decline then too. And if I brought up dinner six months from now, you'd be sweetly apologetic as you ran off to stem some nightmare in your precinct.”

He stared at her with a small frown and she sighed.

“The point is,” she continued. “There is always going to be something, always some reason to just put it off a couple of days.”

Her eyes glinted across him, her features soft and inviting as she stared at him.

“What if I don't want to wait? What if I'm willing to start now, worst foot forward, and see what happens next?”

He stared at her and then frowned. This was impossible. His mouth worked silently for a moment before he got the words out.

“Are you sure?”

They stared at each other and then she suddenly smiled.

“Yes,” she answered and then chuckled softly. “You're…convenient.”

“Is that what I am?” he said, his smile suddenly mirroring hers as he smoothly shifted from his chair to the couch cushion next to her.

“Very convenient,” she said.

“Mmm…”

 

And that was really all that happened. It was the strangest relationship he had ever been in. She was funny and interesting and knew just when to tell him to shut up. He enjoyed her company and he was pretty sure that she liked having him around as well. He disappointed her sometimes, he knew that, but he always did his best when it came to her, and he couldn't believe how relieved he was when the nervousness she instilled in him didn't fade at all. And it was certainly nice to be able to blow Diana off with a simple “I have plans” and actually mean something besides work.

He liked her. A lot.

 

And he never suspected she left the damn shawl in his car on purpose.

 

 

Oh that Jamie, she's a wily one. Who knows how in the hell she managed to knock him off his game, it must be hormones. After all, Rose has been a lonely, lonely, lonely man throughout this series.