Chapter Text
Mike wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done to deserve this.
He thought he’d lived a good life. Sure, he’d messed around with a few too many groupies, maybe over imbibed on cheap beer once or twice, driven too fast on the highway…but all in all, Mike was a good person. He gave to charity, helped his fellow man…
So what the fuck had he done to deserve this?
He’d already come to terms with the dress earlier in the night. When he had joined Blip and Evelyn to pick Ginny up at her hotel room ahead of Livan’s big charity event (“Livan has a charity?” “Shut up, Lawson, you’re going.”), he was greeted by the sight of his rookie in a long, low cut green number that hugged her curves in a way that shouldn't be allowed in such close proximity to one Mike Lawson. He had skillfully stopped his mouth from falling open and given her a cursory "you clean up nice, Baker," as they got in the limo. While he may have wanted to stare just a few minutes longer, he’d done the right thing and stopped himself. And he thought that would be the end of it.
But then she had to walk the carpet – (before them, of course, no one was here for pictures of Mike or Blip) – and pause in the middle, her long left leg jutting out of a thigh-high slit.
And time stopped.
In the back of his brain, Mike knew there were people around. He knew it was his turn to step out onto that carpet, maybe even pose for a picture or two with the goddamn siren that had taken the place of his 23-year-old rookie. But the problem was, time had stopped, and Mike couldn't seem to get his feet to move with his focus so centrally located on that leg.
Oh, what legs like that could do. They looked good enough strutting along a red carpet, hidden by fabric, and he had to imagine they’d look even better in a pair of short shorts. Or panties. Or nothing at all. And he couldn’t stop himself from imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his back. Or maybe his waist. Or maybe his head…
Jesus Christ, Lawson, get a grip.
But his feet were still frozen in place, his eyes locked on her dress, and her skin, and her everything. So much so that he barely noticed Blip elbow him in the side and actually press a hand into his back.
“One foot in front of the other, Mike, you can do it.”
The words broke him out of his reverie, and he looked back to find the amused, knowing faces of Blip and Evelyn Sanders.
“I…yeah, I was just waiting…”
"For the blood to rush back to your feet?" He shot an incredulous look at Evelyn, who just smiled at him and winked. "Nice dress, huh? I helped her stylist pick it out..."
He made a mental note to kill Evelyn when the night was over. Or buy her flowers. It was hard to decide. For the moment, he just gave her an appraising look and took a deep breath before turning back to the carpet.
"That's it, nice and easy," Blip's voice teased as he his hand pressed even harder, effectively pushing Mike onto the carpet.
Mike actually stumbled his way forward and cursed before righting his body and pausing for a few solo pictures. He didn’t look so bad himself. Talk about cleaning up well, he knew he was rocking his grey suit, light blue shirt, and tie that his stylist had assured him ‘brought out his eyes’. It was no barely there green dress…with just a couple straps holding it up…and a thigh high slit…
You’re on camera, Lawson, don’t go there again.
"Can we get a few of you together?" Oh, good, the photographers were in on it too. He knew that turning them down would only raise more suspicion, so he steeled himself the way he would for an 0-2 count, and turned to face the music.
Ginny was smiling softly - not her real smile, but the one she gave the media, the public (Mike was not proud that he knew that) – and turned it to him before giving a slight nod and beckoning him toward her body. Mike had to remind himself to breathe as he approached the dress, swallowing very hard and forcing himself to place a palm on Ginny's back.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything, just posing for the camera the way they'd both practiced in media training. Mike still felt like he was floating somewhere outside his body – needed to feel that way, if he had any hope of staying upright and not either passing out or mauling her right here on the carpet. To her credit, Ginny's composure was first class, expert, like she had no idea how she was affecting her 37-year-old captain.
You hear that, Lawson? You're 37-years-old. Control yourself.
But with four words, Ginny blew any hope of control out of the water. "You like the dress?"
Mike's eyes snapped over to her, his expression undoubtedly shocked as the cameras clicked around them. He deserved a medal for at least keeping his mouth closed. She knew. She knew what she was doing to him. She knew the way that damn slit would affect him. She'd done this on purpose, probably just to torture him.
This woman will be the death of you.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before turning his attention back to the cameras and then guiding her down the carpet to the entrance, his hand never leaving her spine. "You trying to torture me, Rook?" He murmured just loud enough for her to hear, his fingers curling subtly over to her waist.
"It working?" Her voice was so confident, almost mocking, and Mike could feel the heat of it travel down his spine and pool in his very interested cock. He knew what his answer was supposed to be. He was supposed to make a dumb joke. He was supposed to tell her to control herself. He was supposed to stop touching her waist and let her go entertain the crowd.
He didn't.
"Bathroom? 5 minutes?" It was her turn to look shocked, snapping her eyes over at him as he forced his eyes to stay trained forward.
"That a good idea, Captain?" She murmured out, her voice a lot less steady than a moment ago.
"Definitely not." He finally dropped his hand and turned to look at her, his eyes flashing as he cocked a brow. "But I owe you a proper thank you for that dress."
She shook her head incredulously, but it wasn’t a no, and Mike accepted her non response as agreement. He swallowed hard as she finally slipped away, that long leg teasing through the high slit with every step, and Mike was sure as ever that his rookie would be the death of him.