Nick woke up with a start, feeling rested but slightly squashy. It took less than a second to recognize Starr’s living room, but he didn’t remember ever seeing it from this position. He shifted a little, and as he did the sudden surge of comprehension made him stare down at the shoulder pressing into his chest. Nick tensed, but only for a moment because too much of it felt so good and warm. He was half covered with a blanket and half-covered with sleeping Starr, their bodies cuddled together on the sofa. She was slumped against him, limp and heavy in just the right way to make Nick flex a little. He closed his eyes, giving in to the animal pleasure of being held.

It had been a long time. He’d broken up with Wendy before the kidnapping, and afterwards he’d dated a few times, but . . . it wasn’t the same. Nick found himself wondering if any woman would ever understand what he’d been through, or would be able to put up with some of his defenses now. The therapist kept telling him that things would get better in time, but Nick wasn’t sure everything would ever be the same.

Like this, here and now. He should be upset about being used as a pillow, but somehow it felt pretty good. Starr wasn’t heavy at all, and her hair smelled nice; sort of peachy-scented. Nick shifted a tiny bit, and all of a sudden felt the warm heft of breast against his chest.

THAT registered all the way through him in a hot thrum of desire. Desperate to snuff it, Nick shifted a bit more, only managing to bring more of that rounded swell against himself. Starr’s tee shirt was thin, and Nick swallowed hard, loving the press of it even as he tried not to stare. Damn that can’t be silicone, he argued with himself, feeling a little lightheaded now. Too yielding, too heavy--

And just like that Starr murmured in her sleep, rolling away from him and slowly waking up as well. The thick dark lashes of her eyes opened, and she stared muzzily at him for a moment before blushing and smiling at the same time.

“Oh geez, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sprawl all over you!” she apologized, pushing up and away from Nick with the haste of embarrassment. He reluctantly let her go, missing the warmth already as he gave a small grin.

“No problem. Can’t say I minded at all.”

“Riiiight,” she scoffed, but the pink flush across her face gave away her amusement. She rose off the sofa and stretched; Nick bit back another throb of interest when Starr’s tee shirt rose up, flashing a section of smooth muscled stomach. She tugged it down and gave a little yelp while Nick sat up, running a hand over his face. “Oh I’m going to be late!”

“Work?” Nick asked, feeling a little guilty. Starr shook her head and pointed a finger at him as she strode around the sofa.

“No, and you should stay right there. Wally was coming over to watch the Avengers and you can keep him company. Maybe you can get another nap in if you haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve got beer, chips and dip all stocked up.”

“Don’t have to twist my arm,” Nick agreed, grin flashing, “But you?”

Starr flashed him a guilty smile. “I have a date.” She slipped off into the hallway towards the rest of the apartment leaving Nick a little thunderstruck by that idea.

A date? Nick blinked, feeling a spark of something hot and unreasonable in his chest He glared in the direction of the hallway where Starr had disappeared, a sense of concern rising in him. Yeah, concern—that was it. He raised his voice. “A date? Like as in coffee with somebody?”

From the other room came the sound of the closet opening and closing, and then Starr’s distracted voice. “It’s dinner--we’re going to Waffle World when he gets off of his shift. Damn it, I can’t find my green shoes. Nick, are my green shoes under the coffee table?”

Nick glanced down, his thoughts still tumbling over each other. He picked up the dressy sandals and let his exasperation tinge his reply. “Tell me you didn’t just say Waffle World. Come on, Starr—what kind of date is THAT? It’s like going out to Denny’s for crying out loud! People don’t do dates at Waffle World!”

“Big Mike does. He loves waffles,” came the calm response. “Shoes?”

“They’re here,” Nick replied dourly, “Big Mike?”

“No, they’re for me—“ Starr teased, coming back into the room. She’d changed out of her shorts into a tiny denim skirt and added a few chunky wooden bangle bracelets to each slender wrist. As she reached for the shoes in Nick’s hands he caught a faint whiff of perfume.

“Big Mike?” he repeated, stubbornly, looking up at her from the sofa. Starr finally registered his expression, puzzled.

“Big Mike. He used to date Mercedes a while back but they broke up when she moved to L.A. I ran into him when I was getting the oil changed in my car, and one thing led to another, so we’re going out.”

Nick took in the sight of Starr slinking into her sandals, flashing a sweet length of leg at him while she chattered on. He gritted his teeth a bit and looked away, but it was difficult. “So you’re dating some guy you sort of know that you met up with at a Quickie Lube. Sounds real nice.” His tone dripped sarcasm. Starr rolled her eyes and puffed her cheeks out as she worked her foot in her shoe.

“Oh lighten up, Nick. We’re going out for waffles, not driving through the Chapel ‘O Love.”

There was no reply to that; Nick had a bizarre vision of Starr and some hulking Pro Wrestler in a tiny VW bedecked with ribbons pulling up to the speaker box and reciting vows. Before he could say a word a knock came at the door, and Starr went to open it. “Hey Wally.”

“Starr. Brought some paella and corn dogs.”

“Oh hey, that’s um, very thoughtful,” she replied and Nick could hear a suppressed giggle in her voice. Wally walked by, giving him a nod as he turned towards the kitchen. Starr came back to the living room and gave Nick a small shrug. “So, you two are set, and I should be back pretty soon. Just don’t drink ALL the beers, okay?”

“Waffle World,” Nick shook his head morosely, watching her sail out the door.

*** *** ***

Nick tried to concentrate on the show, which was sort of cool in an abstract, old-fashioned way. The guy was cool and reminded him a little bit of Grissom, and as for the woman—she had some sweet moves, and her outfit looked a little like Uma Thurman’s in Kill Bill. But even with the distraction, Nick still felt restless. Next to him, perched on the edge of the sofa, Wally gave a sigh.

“Geez, calm down, Bevo. She’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Starr’s a good girl—if she actually liked this Big Mike guy she wouldn’t have asked you to stick around here,” Wally muttered, reaching for another corn dog and dipping it into mustard. Nick pondered on that a moment, feeling a little better.

“Really?”

“Really. She wanted a reason to be able to keep it short, so buck up and pass me another beer.” Nick did, hesitating for a moment, the questions on the tip of his tongue. Wally didn’t even look up as he took the cold bottle and twisted the cap off of it. “I’ve known Starr for six years, and yes I know she used to be a man. Key point in that last sentence, Cowboy, is USED to. When she’s ready to talk about it with you, she’ll bring it up. Be patient.”

“Yeah, but—“ Nick began helplessly, running a hand through his hair. Wally finally turned his glance from the screen and blinked at him.

“But you’re uneasy about being attracted to someone who seems to blend both genders.”

“Yeah.” Nick admitted weakly. Wally gave an eloquent shrug.

“Then you have some thinking to do. Now pipe down.”

Nick leaned back on the sofa, not particularly happy to comply. They watched another two episodes, and finally the sound of a key in the door made them both look up; Wally rose stiffly to his feet, rubbing his thighs. Starr came in, looking relieved. She smiled at them. “Hey guys—still have a corn dog left?”

“Three, but you’ll have to reheat them. I’m beat, Twinkle—see you tomorrow,” Wally sighed. He came around the sofa, kissed Starr loudly on the cheek and left, making his way out of the duplex as Nick began to clear off the coffee table. Starr plucked the corn dogs up and set them on a plate; Nick glanced her over.

God she looked good. Long, long legs, chocolate brown eyes, and that rack . . .

“Didn’t you get any waffles?” he asked gruffly.

“I had half of one. Big Mike’s bulking up for the Mr. Las Vegas competition and he sort of confiscated most of my dinner,” She remarked, poking at the microwave numbers with one finger. Nick leaned on the kitchen counter annoyed and amused at the same time.

“So he invited you out to dinner then ATE yours? That’s not much of a date, Starr.”

“Well the food wasn’t the highlight, I agree. But Big Mike’s a good guy.” She brightened and added, “He showed me his weasel.”

“W-what?” Nick coughed a little; Starr laughed and waggled a finger at him.

“Dirty MIND, Nick Stokes. He’s got a pet ferret named Sheila. Pretty cute, too. “

“A ferret, not a . . . never mind,” Nick blushed, well aware he’d been teased and not minding it for the moment. Starr pulled the corn dogs out and slipped the end of one into her pretty mouth; Nick fought the second flush at the lewd image she presented.

“Yeah, well cute as his weasel is, I don’t think I’ll go out with him again. The conversation was pretty much dedicated to his weightlifting regime,” came her muffled reply as she took a bite. “I like to talk about other things besides protein shakes and workout routines.”

Nick nabbed one of the remaining corndogs and waved it at her. “So--not into powerlifters?”

“Not my type. If we didn’t have Mercedes in common I probably wouldn’t have said yes, but he looked kind of lonely, and I knew he’d treat me all right.” She hesitated and looked at Nick for a serious second. “Not every guy wants to be seen in public with me you know.”

“Aw, Starr . . . “ Nick mumbled, feeling heat across his face. She picked up her plate and moved gracefully around to the sofa, flouncing onto it and scowling at her corn dog.

“It’s true Nick. You don’t know what it’s like. I know guys who’ll be more than happy to get to see me as long as it’s not outside the bar, or their homes. And even though I’m biologically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally a woman, the fact that at one time I wasn’t is enough to make some sort of difference. You know what I REALLY am?” she challenged, her chin quivering a little.

Nick very carefully stepped over to the sofa and sat down, his actions deliberate. “You tell me—what ARE you, REALLY, Starr Jankowitz?”

She smiled briefly at his courteous tone and her high drama broke apart, like a soap bubble. Starr let her head drop back and she laughed, very softly. “I am a scarred woman, Nicholas Stokes. Not a man, not a transgender, not a half and half, okay? I’m a woman with an Adam’s apple. A woman with bigger shoulders and feet than I should have. A woman who’ll never have kids even though I adore them. I love MEN. Not women, not transgenders, not gays—men. Guys, fellas, boys, the half of the planet with dicks.”

She looked over at him, noting Nick’s deep blush, his bright twinkling eyes and bashful grin and laughed some more. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I missed all that while I watched you playing around with your corn dog there—could you say it again?”

“You--“ she growled playfully, and threw one of the little Lone Star pillows at him. Nick batted it away, still smiling. He reached for her thin wrist under the bangles and squeezed it gently.

“Hey, all kidding aside, Starr, I’m . . . working on it okay? I won’t lie that it didn’t throw me for a loop in the beginning. I’m not as open-minded as Grissom, but I’m trying, and you make it a lot easier because you put a face on it. But the truth is,” he swallowed and continued, “I like you. You for you that is, not whether you used to be something or are something now. Just because you’re Starr, okay?”

She nodded, kicking her sandals off and folding her legs up under her, and for a moment Nick saw her as a doe, graceful and long. Starr waved the half-eaten corn dog towards the screen. “Okay. So we’re good to go, right?”

And Nick nodded, feeling an odd sweetness deep inside as he picked up the remote.