Disclaimer: Would love to own them, but I don't.
Gillian reached for the packet of hot tamales next to her, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. She popped the small candy into her mouth, feeling the heat of the cinnamon warm her tongue. Her eyes flicked over the text before her, and she only looked up when she heard a knock at the door, followed by Cal's voice. "Got a minute, love?"
She looked up, chewing the last of the tamale. She gestured to her mouth with a small giggle, swallowed, then smiled at him. "Sorry. What can I do for you?"
"What you got there?" He inched closer to her, his head cocked to one side as he tried to see the box on top of the pile of papers.
"Ooh, nice. Love one, thanks." He held his hand out, and she raised her eyebrows with a laugh.
"You want some of my candy?"
Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows. "It's nice to share, Foster. I know you love your sweets, but really…"
"No, no," she hastened to correct his misconception. "I don't mean I won't share… I'm just surprised. You're not really a 'sweet tooth' kind of guy."
"Oh come on now, I can be very sweet." He perched on the edge of her desk and gave her an over the top soppy grin, and she laughed.
"Okay. Here." She reached for the box, noticing as she picked it up the lack of rattling. "Oops…" She shook it again, then made an apologetic face. "Sorry. Looks like I just ate the last one."
"What!" He looked so genuinely disappointed she let out a small laugh, and he gave her a gentle poke on the shoulder.
"Oi. It's not nice to laugh at someone, especially when you've just eaten the last one of their favourite sweets."
"They're your favourite?"
"Yeah, they are. I happen to love cinnamon. It's all fiery and hot, you know…" He winked at her, then hopped off the desk. "And now you've eaten the last one. I can smell it…" He sniffed dramatically. "But I can't taste it."
She rolled her eyes, the amused smile still in place. "You know, Cal, there are these things these days, called shops… in fact, I believe there are some not too far from where we sit right now."
"Too busy to go out. Anyway, I want it now."
She laughed. "You sound like a two-year-old. 'I want it now!' Are you going to start stamping your foot, as well?"
"Might do." He gave her an exaggerated pout, and she swatted him on the shoulder as she stood up.
"Stop that. And stop with the puppy dog eyes. Make me feel bad all you want, it won't bring the tamales back." She rested her hands on his shoulder as though comforting a grieving widow and put on a mock serious voice. "They're gone, Cal."
"And so the day gets even worse." He sighed. "I was in a grumpy mood before, but now…"
"I mean it."
"You're always grumpy on Mondays."
"Especially when I don't get my cinnamon fix."
"What did you need a minute of my time for, anyway?" She walked past him, replacing a book she'd been looking at on the shelf.
"Hmm?" he asked, distractedly. "Oh. Can't remember." He picked up the empty packet and shook it sadly, then tossed it towards her waste paper bin. It hit the rim and bounced off, and he let out another dramatic sigh. "See, things are just getting worse…"
"Oh, for god's sake, Cal!" She shook her head, her eyes sparkling, then walked towards him, grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her as she crashed her lips against his. She slipped her tongue inside, tasting him, letting him taste her, and felt him kiss her back with fierce passion.
Breaking away at last, she smirked at the shocked look on his face as he slowly opened his eyes. "What the…"
"Got your cinnamon fix now?"
"I…" He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving her mouth.
"Fiery enough for you, Cal?"
"That's an understatement."
She laughed. "Well, now you can't be mad at me for eating the last one… at least I gave you a taste."
"That you did, darling," he murmured as he walked towards the door. "That you did."
Gillian couldn't leave her Tuesday morning meeting fast enough; the whole way through, all she'd been able to think about was the packet of peanut butter cups she'd put in the fridge that morning. Long, boring meetings were always easier to survive when she had some kind of candy goodness to look forward to, and right now it was the thought of the smooth peanut butter sliding over her tongue and mingling with the sweet chocolate that was making her hurry to the break room. She yanked open the fridge door and reached inside, smiling as her hand grasped the wrapper. She pulled it towards her, then felt her smile fade when she noticed its lightness. Frowning, she looked at the packet in her hand, not only ripped open but completely empty. A note tucked inside bore familiar writing. Sorry love, I ate the last one. But if you want a taste, I'm sure we can arrange something.
She felt her smile return as she closed the fridge and headed for the door, resuming her brisk pace.