Genie in a Bottle

Author's Note: Just a quick fic that jumped to mind in between writing 'Pieces', which, by the way, I am NOT abandoning. BTW, is anyone still with me on that? I'm not really getting any reviews anymore. You can tell me if it's starting to go down the drain, you know.

Does ANYONE tell me when the Crossing Jordan premier is? The stupid people keep friggin' changing it… darn t.v. network.


Garret Macy hated Halloween.

He was going to throttle Rene for making him come to this stupid thing. Throttle her. Why the hell it was mandatory, he didn't know. It was just a Halloween party. Not like it was some big occasion or anything. Stupid Halloween.

He glowered fiercely into his wimpy little plastic cup of god-only-knows what evil concoction some idiot had come up with just to make his evening even more miserable. With a distasteful glance at it and a flick of his index finger, it disappeared into the dark depths of the hell for garbage. Oh god. It was getting to him. "Stupid garbage can. It's a damn ordinary trash holder. What the hell." He gave a swift kick to the side of it and watched it wobble and nearly tip over. Out of nowhere, a random hand pushed it back firmly into place, a hand that didn't belong to him…


His hand wasn't perfectly manicured like that one, didn't have smooth, porcelain-doll skin, and sure wouldn't have saved the poor garbage can from causing one helluva mess by falling over. Hah. Preparing himself for a full-on lecture on how he should behave, be nice to the guests, be sociable, blah, blah, blah, he sighed. He let his gaze slowly slide upward from the hand, along an almost-bare arm, the curve of a shoulder, flickering slightly to the left to assess the costume of the garbage-can-saver.

His stomach flipped over, and he forced his eyes to drop to the feet of his visitor and start again. Something like elf slippers, only blue, sheltered tiny, delicate feet. Long, long, longer legs- god, where did they end?- were encased in completely sheer flowing material, almost baggy, but in a good way. The material continued up to her hips, but darker blue bikini bottoms underneath kept the costume from violating the dress code. Nicest damn legs he'd ever seen…

The toned stomach was mostly bare, save for an inch or two. More darker blue cloth created a strapless cropped top that fell just below her breasts, tightened by what he guessed was elastic. The sheer material covered the same amount of skin on her front, but also was draped over her shoulders and ran down her arms, coming to an end with silver cuffs at her wrists.

This was most definitely not René.

He jerked his attention to her face, and hid his shock by tipping his head to one side. "People aren't good enough? You gotta save the hell for garbage, too?" A smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he waited for her reply.

One eyebrow shot up and she mimicked his expression. "Hell for garbage? Aww, did Nigel's witch brew get to you?"

He snapped his fingers. "That's what it was."

Humour disguised the erratic thundering in his chest and the fact that his mind refused to leave the warm, fuzzy place that was at that moment wishing he could take her home and… well… he really, shouldn't be going there… dammit.

It wasn't fair. Co-workers weren't allowed to be that sexy. Like Jordan. Especially Jordan.

He needed a beer.

Do NOT look anywhere other than at her face. Do NOT, do NOT, do NOT.

Shoot. She said something.

"Mmm, wonderful. Wait. What?" He snapped back to attention when he realized she was talking to him.

The smirk was replaced by the beginnings of a smile.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Like hell I am." She was grinning now, eyes sparkling and lips curving, and right then he wanted her so bad it hurt.

Instead he smiled back and quipped, "you look like a genie."

"Good for you," she teased, and spun in a circle slowly, giving him the opportunity to check her out again and clench his jaw. "You like?"


"Nevermind. You don't have to answer that."

He gestured to the door that seemed forever away. "I need air. It's getting stuffy in here."

She nodded, joining his side, smiling as she felt his hand on the small of her back to guide her away from the crowd. The smile faded slightly as he let it drop when they escaped the confines of the party.

He exhaled heavily, sitting opposite her on a nearby park bench. "Aren't you cold?"

Her shoulders lifted in a gentle shrug. "Not really," she said, and it was mostly true, but of course he didn't believe her and pulled off his Zorro cape and wrapped it around her. Relaxing, she leaned against his shoulder and smiled.

He extended his arm out, stretching it, then draped it across the back of the bench.

They sat in comfortable cloud of silence until she broke it by saying, "I wouldn't figure you for a dress-up kind of guy."

"Yeah well…" she could feel him sighing. "René didn't really give me a choice."

"I see."

She tilted her head back to look at him. He met her eyes.

"Dance with me."

She didn't argue.

He pulled her to her feet onto the sidewalk, placing one hand in the middle of her back, the other grasped her hand and he laced their fingers together. Her free hand rested on his shoulder. After a while she let her head drop against his chest as they swayed back and forth to the music that could still be heard from inside.

Eventually the song ended. He stopped all movement but didn't drop his hands. Instead he gazed down at her, thinking. "I kinda like you, ya know."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Well, whaddya know. I kinda like you, too."

His head dropped lower until his forehead easily rested against hers. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, anticipating what was to come.

Or not.

His voice rumbled as he spoke again. "I rather enjoy the genie thing you have going on, there."

An evil glint appeared in her eyes as she opened them to return his stare. "Yeah? Lucky for you genies come with three wishes, huh?"

"Lucky me," he growled, and kissed her.