Not His Night

Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em...funny about that.

Summary: He ducked as a shoe just missed his head – a night-time visitor causes trouble for Mike Logan.

Author's Note: I have no idea where this came from – seriously, I think lack of sleep though, anywho this hasn't been beta'd and as always I hope you enjoy.

Takes some place early Season 6.

Her moans had filled the room.

Now she was more or less silent, arms wrapped around him, occasionally mumbling R-rated things into his ear. Not that he really paid any attention to it. He lay there, feeling oddly satisfied, grateful for the warm body that lay curled up against him. If he glanced down it was almost like being with Caro...

He tensed slightly, he shouldn't think about her...

"Everything okay baby...?" came her voice, pulling her body up over his, nuzzling into his neck.

"Fine," he grunted.

He grinned, and kissed her lightly, rolling her over, and laying on top, arm propped so he wouldn't crush her. He observed her for a moment, taking in her chocolate brown curls, and light green eyes. He knew the alcohol was wearing off, and that the woman before him was deviating from his dream girl.

Not that it was sex right?

The woman smiled, and he bent done, kissing her deeply, eyes closed. His tongue snaked forward, meeting hers, but he suddenly froze as he felt her hand wrap tightly around him, caressing it gently. His body shuddered slightly, and he cracked his left eye open to see the woman wink at him.

"You like that?" she said softly.

"Do you need to ask?"

"Tell me how you like it..."

He inwardly sighed. He hated the ones that wanted a minute detail on how aroused he was. Sex wasn't meant to be a moment to talk, wasn't meant to be talked about (well not in great detail anyway), it was about what happened in the moment, the heat of passion. Besides Mike seriously didn't feel like talking about what got him excited to a 'distraction'.

He felt guilty thinking that, but that was the truth. He had needed to get laid; three months hadn't done him good so after chatting up a few girls he'd ended up taking this woman, Chelsea, home. He felt slightly disgusted with himself. He was pretty much using her.

Still might as well satisfy her. Better not to anger her since she was holding him in a very fragile position – and he really didn't want to be limping at work tomorrow. He opened his mouth, leaned in, and just as he was about to speak –

The doorbell rang.

"I should get that..." said Mike. She sighed, and let go. He slowly got out of bed, yawning as he did. She reached for him, trying to pull him back to her, but he ignored her, shaking her acrylic nails off his forearm.

It rang again.

Who the fuck would call at...he glanced at the clock – at one in the morning? He rolled his eyes, and grabbed his boxers, pulling them up.

"Come back," she whined as the doorbell rang again.

He decided against rolling his eyes.

He ambled down his hallway, switching on the light switch, blinking and shielding his eyes. He shut his eyes tightly, and rubbed them, before reopening. His vision adjusted just as the doorbell rang again. Bloody impatient twerp, he thought savagely.

He reached his door, and the bell rang...again. He grabbed his keys from the bowl on the hall table and unlocked his deadlock, flinging the door open, ready to give the idiot a piece of his mind.

His heart stopped.

It was Wheeler.

What the hell was she doing here? She couldn't just torture him at work; no she had to turn up at bloody one in the morning. What was wrong with her? His eyes narrowed, and he fought back a slight grin as he noticed a bright flush appearing on her face, eyes wide, drinking in his appearance.

Grinning he said sharply, "Yes?"

"I a...ummm..."

"Spit it out," he said when she didn't speak.

Her face reddened even more, and she glanced down at her shoes. Speaking in one breath she blurted out, "My building has had a massive gas leak, and I needed a place to stay –"

"And you came here – why?" he interrupted, staring at her in disbelief.

She looked at him in the eye, "My Mom's in Florida, my uncle is visiting friends somewhere, Ross has his kids tonight, so..."

"And I was your last resort?"

She grimaced, "Yeah...sorry,"

"You should be," grumbled Mike, "Now I have to –"

"Sweetie," came her voice from the bedroom. Mike grimaced; oh fuck...he seriously wished he could make Wheeler disappear. Talk about awkward. Sure everyone knew about him being into women, but for his innocent little partner to see it in its entirety...

He spun around and wanted to slap himself as she stood just outside his room, wrapped in his bed sheet like a toga, her face slowly turning red. She glared fiercely at Wheeler and then at Mike.

"Bastard, man-whore, dick –"

"It's not what it –"

"I can't believe you!" she screamed, "You and your little wranger whore –"

In all his years he had never known a woman to react this badly – ever. He immediately wished he had his gun on him. Shit she looked pissed.

"Woah..." started Mike, "It's not like that -this is my partner –"

At that moment he wished he had told her that he was a cop. Because quite frankly his date thought partner as in, well, he shot a glance at Wheeler – that was sick really, he was old enough to be her father for god's sake.

Pity Chelsea didn't even bother to ask what he meant by 'partner', because the next second she had disappeared into his room, coming back out with her skimpy little green dress, and stilettos.

"I can't believe you!" she screeched.

Why had he picked up the homicidal one?

"Chelsea –"

He ducked as a shoe just missed his head.

"My name isn't Chelsea you bastard!" she yelled, "Its Charlie!"

She charged forward, and Mike found himself flattening against the wall. He heard her storm down the hallway, screaming still. He quickly grabbed Wheeler, puling her in, and shut his door, hoping his neighbours didn't realise that 'Charlie' had come from his apartment. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, this wasn't his night.

He looked at Wheeler. She looked half terrified, and half amused at what had just happened and the way he seemed to be dealing with it. Realising he had to take charge to make sure this didn't end up in the Major Case rumour mill, or Ross didn't find out, he quickly said, "Okay conditions,"

"What?" said Wheeler raising an eyebrow.

"Not a word, clear?" he said in a threatening tone. She nodded and he continued, "Couch," he gestured to his living room, "Bathroom," he pointed to a closed door to his right, "You don't disturb me, there is some food in the fridge for breakfast, got it?"

"Sure Logan," she nodded. She swallowed and asked, "Do you have a blanket or something?"

He nodded shortly, and went to get it. When he came back out of his room, he passed Wheeler an old woollen blanket. He watched her for a moment, before heading back to his room.

"Logan?" she said suddenly.

He turned.


He shrugged, and closed his door. He'd wanted to say 'thanks' to Wheeler for helping getting rid of 'Charlie'...not that she'd really been annoying but it was lucky she had gone before she built some massive attachment to him. It was always the homicidal ones that got attached.

He sighed, and slumped onto his bed, closing his eyes. He stretched out, and smiled, allowing sleep to claim him. He was nearly asleep when he heard a yell from the living room. He bolted up, and cringed...oh shit!

He'd forgotten about the couch sex...

Charlie's g-string...

That condom which had snapped...

This really wasn't his night.