DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Woody could have ignored the knock on his door except whoever it was didn't stop. He turned off the water, wrapped the towel around his waist and dripped water across the floor as he hurried to the door. Agitated, he threw open the door, a scowl forming on his lips. What he saw caused his jaw to slacken instead. He gaped for a moment, his eyes trying to take in the sight that greeted him. "Jordan?" He gave her a final once over, head to toe. "Jordan Cavanaugh?"

Jordan smiled at him. Shyly, he could have sworn. Hesitant, uncertain, way out of her comfort zone, he might have added. Her hair curled around her face, making her look soft and young, almost vulnerable if not for the glint in her eyes. Discreet gold studs decorated her ear lobes and a simple gold chain dangled around her neck. Her dark blouse hinted at cleavage but revealed astonishingly little. It even had a ribbon tied in a bow just beneath her breasts. Her skirt fell to her shins, a lighter shade than the top and patterned in delicate flowers. Woody ventured to guess she even wore stockings. Her heels were low, sensible and a nice, neutral brown. She looked dressed for - His eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

She gave him own candidly appraising glance and then turned on her smile, full- wattage, her self confidence roaring back. "You're not going like that, are you?"

"Going like what?" Abashed, suddenly remembering he was clad only in a towel, Woody turned a faint shade of pink. "Going where?"

She gave him a withering look - or it would have been except for the smile that still played on her lips and the teasing light in her eyes. "Mass."


She widened her eyes. "You know - church service. They have them every Sunday. There's singing and kneeling and praying and - hopefully - forgiving of sins. And you said-"

"If you woke up at my place on a Sunday morning you'd know I was Catholic because we'd be going to mass." Woody nodded. "Very good, Jordan. One tiny detail though." His blue eyes held their own mirth.

Jordan arched an eyebrow.

Woody leaned in to her a little bit, doing his level best to ignore the scent of her and the effect it tended to have on his thought processes. And other processes. "You didn't wake up here."

She leaned into him, doing her level best to ignore the closeness of his damp skin and the fact that he wore only that towel. "But I'm here now. It's gonna have to do."

Grinning at each other, the current between them palpable, Woody stood aside to let Jordan in. He noticed she carried coffee and had picked up his newspaper. He thanked her for the coffee, took his, and told her to make herself comfortable, that he'd finish getting ready. She settled on the couch with her coffee and his paper, stifling further thoughts of him wearing even less than the towel.

When he emerged shaved and dressed in khakis and a blue button down shirt that emphasized his eye, Jordan nodded approval. "Thank God."

"We're about to. A bunch of times." He gave her a mock serious look. "Or are you blaspheming again?"

She chuckled. "Guilty. Will I have to confess?"

"Probably. So why were you blaspheming?" His eyes still twinkled with delight.

"No tie."

Woody shook his head and ushered her toward the door.


As they walked back toward his place after the service Jordan kept glancing over at her companion. After a while, she spoke. "You know, Woody, I envy you a bit."

He turned to look at her. "Really? Why?"

She shrugged, more out of incipient awkwardness than any disinterest. "It all means something to you, something comforting."

"And it doesn't mean anything to you?"

She looked ahead, now unwilling to meet his eyes. "I don't know. It's just all - so - it's rites and rituals and 'confession is good for the soul.'"

Woody gave her a small smile, tinged with sadness. "It can be, you know."

"Confession? Good for the soul?"

He nodded.

She didn't physically step away from him, but he felt her put the space between them. "Maybe. Not always. And what about the other stuff?"

"I don't know, Jordan. I understand what you mean, but I like the rites and the rituals. They connect me to something older and stronger than myself."

"They're safe," she scorned.

"Sometimes safe is good, too, Jo." They walked a bit farther in silence. "I'm not saying the Church is perfect. We've got plenty of example right here to show it's not, but yeah, you're right, it does mean something to me."

When they arrived at his building, Woody invited her up. She shook her head. "I promised Garret I'd come in and get some paperwork done."

Though his eyes expressed his regret, he accepted her demurral. "Thanks for coming with me. I know it's not - not - you know."

She smiled and let the wall she'd put up come down once more. "Maybe we'll do it again sometime."

His eyebrows rose in arcs of surprise. "I don't know."

He sounded so serious that her smile faltered. "You... don't... want... me... to?"

It was his turn to shrug. "Think of everything I'd have to confess."

"What? You lost me, Woodrow."

"Well, I did say 'if you woke up at my place...," he reminded her slyly.

She grinned at him and gave him a hug goodbye. She'd walked a few steps away from him, when she turned. "And Woody?"


"What makes you think there'd be anything to confess?" Her smile dazzled him.