Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish I could borrow Mariska and Richard for this, just to see them act this out.
A/N: Here's some JO love people. Enjoy it.
"Turn around." His voice was soft, and despite still being angry, she obeyed. When he put a hand on her waist and held the other in the air expectantly, though, she had something to say about it.
"What are you doing?" Logical question, after all.
"Put your hand in mine."
"Why?"
"Just do it." She did. "Now, put your other hand on my waist."
"Oh no, you're not doing what I think you're doing, John Munch. No way."
It was too late though, he had a firm grip on her. Stepping forward, she instinctively stepped back. When he stepped to the side, she had no choice but to follow as he then stepped back and to the side again. "Not so bad, now is it?"
"John..." Her voice had a warning tone in it, but he chose that moment to spin her away from him. When she spun back in, she was cursing him.
"Now, now, such an ugly mouth for such a pretty lady," he chided, a smile turning one corner of his mouth up.
"Munch, I'm warning you-"
"Jump."
"What?" she asked, slightly derailed by the sudden command.
"Jump." She did, both his hands on her waist now and when she landed, his hands went immediately back to their former position.
"And what's this supposed to accomplish?"
"If you'd relax and go along with it, you'd find out."
She glared at him, but it was broken when again he ordered her to jump, which she did.
"Would you just relax?" he asked, a certain hint of teasing in his voice, a smile still lingering on his lips. "God, a piece of wood bends more than you."
"Oh, shut up."
"Make me," he dared, a full out grin plastered on his face and she had the sneaking suspicion it wasn't about to leave.
Despite being angry with him, first for what he said, and now for what he was doing, she concentrated on the way they were moving, the placement of her feet, counting the steps until they jumped. She found herself thankful that he had navigated them away from the edge of the roof fairly early and now they were in the middle of nowhere, her hand secure in his. Despite being angry with him, she was relaxing and each time she jumped, she felt weightless, and then she would land, and his one hand would move to grasp hers again. They moved like that, step, step, step, step, jump, step, step... until time no longer matted. She forgot why she was angry, remembering and knowing only how to move with him. Knowing only the warmth of his hands, the sureness of his steps and allowing herself to sink into it, the only things holding her up being his hand on her waist and his hand in her hand.
Eventually, they slowed from the fast pace they had set for themselves. Subconsciously, she moved closer to him, moving her hand from his grasp and the other from his waist, placing both on his shoulders. In turn, both his hands lingered on her hips, hardly touching her enough for her to feel it. Her head rested on his chest, her ear pressed against his heart, listening to the frenzied beating slow. Her eyes slipped shut and she let him guide their swaying, the slight step he took now and then. She was extremely content to stay like this for all eternity, feeling his body against hers, hearing his thumping heart, hanging on to him for all the worth of the world, and him holding her the same. Peace like this was something that had eluded her previous to this moment in time, and now that she had discovered it, she felt no rush in leaving it, but his voice, sounding so deep with her ear against his chest, brought her back.
"You know, they're probably wondering where we went." His voice was soft, but sounded like an earthquake beneath her ear.
"They probably left," she mumbled.
"I've never danced with a woman who had a gun before."
"I've never danced with a gun." She could hear the sounds of cars below them, but it still seemed miles away.
"That really was something, though." His soft voice and gone quieter, if at all possible.
"Yeah." She felt as though she were just waking up from a deep sleep.
"Why were you angry, anyway?"
"Haven't the foggiest. Shut up." The slight chuckle that he emitted vibrated against the side of her head.
"Did you fall asleep on me?"
"I hope so. And don't laugh. It's too loud."
At that, he couldn't help but laugh harder which earned him a quick thud on his chest. "Ouch," he said through his laughing.
"John..." she whined.
"Okay, okay." His laughing subdued, he rested his chin on her head. Her hands slipped down between his arms and body. "Your hair smells good," he whispered after a minute.
"That's nice."
"What? No return compliment?"
"Not if you keep talking."
"Fine." A minute later though, "I'm sorry."
"In case you haven't noticed, Sherlock, I've forgiven you."
"Does that make you Watson?"
"No, it makes me Wonder Woman."
"Oh, okay." He was quiet again, and she wondered how long it would last this time before he found something else to say. "Are you happy?" His tone was suddenly serious, and that had her full attention before he could even say 'happy'.
"Yes. Why?"
He was quiet and she wondered why it was that when she wanted him to shut up, he talked and when she asked him a question, he didn't answer. "I just wanted to know if you were happy, that's all."
She pulled her head away from his chest, the air suddenly blowing against it sending chills down her spine, but she ignored them. "No, you wanted to know if I was happy with you." He only looked at her. "I just spent God only knows how long dancing with you on the roof of a police precinct. And now I've got my arms around you, my head on your chest, listening to your heart, and you're wondering if I'm happy or not. Think about it, John."
When he responded by only looking at her, she pressed her lips against his. When she pulled back, she whispered, "I love you, John. I'm happier with you than I've ever been, with anyone."
She kissed him again, this time letting her tongue graze over his bottom lip. When he pulled away, she was surprised. "I love you, Liv." And before she could respond, he resumed the kiss.