Title: Brownies

Author: Margaret Newman

Email: mereridkat@aol.com

Rating: R

Pairing: Tom and Sloan

Fandom: Prey

Category: pwp

Archive: Slash 'N Prey

Website: n/a

Disclaimer: 1) I am not making any money. 2) I do not own the characters. 3) No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. 4) This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Synopsis: Sloan makes brownies, Tom recalls a birthday

Notes: snippet, unfinished

Warnings: m/f pairing!


BROWNIES
by Margaret Newman

"Tom..." Sloan called from the bedroom as she collected her dirty clothes. She was attempting to do some laundry this evening.
It was 8:30, and she hadn't gotten very far.

"Yes, Sloan." Tom stood in the kitchen where Sloan had left him. He had been instructed to watch the brownies so they wouldn't burn. Like so many things about Humans, Tom did not understand her passion for brownies. He did not question it, though, and accepted it as it was a part of Sloan.

"When is your birthday?" She asked appearing in the doorway as she looked at a sweater. He looked up at her, and his heart rate increased slightly. She did that to him, and it wasn't something he could control. His _feelings_ for her were beyond his control.

"My birthday?" He frowned, tilting his head slightly.

"You know." She looked up at him and smiled. "The date you were born. I was just wondering."

"I..." Some memory, distant and buried under layers of conditioning. There was a birthday cake, people singing, his mother
standing beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder. He shivered, there was something in there that was frightening. Suddenly Sloan was standing beside him turning off the oven buzzer. She took the brownies out, setting them on a burner of the stove to cool.

"Are you alright?" She touched his arm with the oven mit still on. "Oh." She pulled it off, tossing it aside. Then her both
her hands were on him, skin to skin. It was always very distracting. "Did you remember something?"

"No." He lied. "We don't celebrate births the way you do, Sloan. I believe my date of birth is July 7. I am not certain of the
year. The date of birth for my FBI profile is July 7, 1963. Will that do?"

"Sure." She nodded, dark auburn hair bouncing around her head. Tom slipped a hand up into her hair, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the texture.

"You smell good." He said softly, his brown eyes turning warm. Sloan felt it all the way down to her toes.

"Laundry is boring." Sloan whispered as she leaned forward to place a kiss on his neck just under his earlobe. "Distract me from doing laundry, Tom."

"What about the brownies?" He asked, one eyebrow rising inquisitively.

"They can wait for afterwards." She smiled mischieviously, and pulled him -there wasn't much pulling to it- towards her bedroom.

"Afterwards?" He frowned, raising his arms dutifully as she pulled his black t-shirt off of him.

"Yeah." She laughed huskily. "Afterwards."

"Oh." He caught the look on her face, saw the heat rising off of her body. "I thought the appropriate activity for that was smoking a cigerette."

"Brownies are much better." Sloan promised him.


*

The only sound in the apartment was the ticking of the clock beside Sloan's bed. She was deeply asleep, lost to the wonders of
a restful sleep. The now empty pan of brownies had been tossed onto the floor. Crumbs were every where - sheets, blankets, skin. Tom would now forever associate brownies with making love to Sloan. Though, between the two, she tasted better.

He laid there beside her staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. When he was with her, it was very hard for him to
sleep. He did not want to miss one moment that he had with her. He knew this was not a permanent arrangement. The others would not allow it to continue for long. In time, he knew not when, they would be separated, and he wanted to have a sufficient amount of memories to carry with him. If they allowed him to retain those memories. Not that the memories could replace actually being with her.

Memories. He blinked. He did not understand the memory flash he had had of the birthday party. Supposedly it was for him. There was cake and tubs of ice cream. Balloons hung from the ceiling. His mother was there, by his side, touching him. Someone else was there, equally familiar to him. The other children were Human. Why would his mother allow him to have a birthday party with Human children?

The clock struck 2am. Sloan shifted under the sheet, flopping an arm over his chest. Her head rested on his arm, his hand having gone numb 37 minutes ago. It did not bother him. She whispered in her sleep, and smiled. He changed the focus of his vision to her hair. He loved her hair. To him, it signified what he loved most about her. She was different. Different from his mother, from his people, different from other Humans. All those curls, all that color.

He wondered what she had been like as a child. Had her hair been like this then? Had she been reckless as she was now? Rushing in where angels fear to tread, Ed had commented. Had her parents given her birthday parties every year? Had she been happy as a child?

"I didn't think you would mind me throwing Little Tom a birthday party." A woman said above him, speaking to his mother. "My Sarah just adores him. He is so well-behaved."

"No, I don't mind at all. I know Tom loves all the attention." His mother replied, smiling. She doesn't smile like the Human mothers.He does not understand why they do not see the difference.

"Time to open the presents! Time to open the presents!" A child that Tom does not recognize chants as he jumps up and down. His mother looks at the child, and in seconds the chanting and jumping stops.

There is a man there, a Dominant. Tom cannot see his face, but feels his presence strongly. Even with the memory so far away in his childhood, a chill surges up Tom's spine. Someone that he is very much afraid of, and very familiar. His father? He cannot remember his father. The few memories he has managed to recover of his childhood all center around his mother, and the Dominants.

The memory ends. Tom can not call any more of it forward. It leaves him feeling confused and scared. He lays there listening to the clock tick, feeling Sloan's heart beating steadily against his skin, and he waits for sunrise. Perhaps if he is lucky, Sloan will be interested in more love making before leaving for the lab. She was a very inventive lover. He found that aspect of her very intriguing. He had been trained in sexual relations, hetero or homo sexual, but none of it had prepared him for this. Nothing in his life had prepared him for Sloan and what he felt for her.


END